Three days before the wedding contract signing, around five in the afternoon, a gentle breeze rustled through the small garden outside the Count of Monte Cristo’s mansion. The Count was getting ready to leave, his horses already stamping impatiently while the coachman waited on his seat, when an elegant carriage suddenly wheeled around the entrance gate.
Out stepped Andrea Cavalcanti, dressed like he was about to marry royalty itself. He asked for the Count with his usual casual confidence and bounded up the stairs to the first floor, eting him at the top.
The Count paused when he saw the young man. As for Andrea, once he got going, nothing could stop him.
"Good morning, dear Count!" he said brightly.
"Ah, Mr. Andrea," the Count replied with a half-amused tone. "How are you?"
"Wonderful, as you can see! I ca to talk to you about a thousand things. But first, were you heading out or just getting back?"
"I was leaving, actually."
"Then I’ll ride with you in your carriage if that’s alright. Tom can follow behind with mine."
"No," said the Count with a barely noticeable smile of contempt, he had no desire to be seen with this young man. "I’d rather listen to you here, my dear Andrea. We can talk better indoors, and there’s no coachman to overhear us."
The Count led him back to a small sitting room on the first floor. He sat down, crossed his legs, and gestured for Andrea to sit as well.
Andrea put on his most cheerful expression. "You know, dear Count, the ceremony is tonight. At nine o’clock, we’re signing the contract at my future father-in-law’s place."
"Is that so?" Monte Cristo said.
"What, you didn’t know? Hasn’t Mr. Danglars told you about it?"
"Oh yes, I received a letter from him yesterday. But I don’t think he ntioned the ti."
"Well, my father-in-law probably assud everyone already knew."
"Well then," Monte Cristo said, "you’re quite fortunate, Mr. Cavalcanti. It’s an excellent match you’re making. Miss Danglars is a beautiful girl."
"Yes, she really is," Cavalcanti replied modestly.
"And more importantly, she’s very wealthy, or at least, I believe so," said Monte Cristo.
"Very rich, you think?" the young man asked.
"Without question. People say Mr. Danglars hides at least half his fortune."
"And he admits to having fifteen or twenty million!" Andrea said, his eyes sparkling with joy.
"Not to ntion," Monte Cristo added, "he’s about to enter a new business venture that’s already popular in Arica and England, but completely new here in France."
"Yes, yes, I know what you an, the railway project he was granted, right?"
"Exactly. Everyone believes he’ll make ten million from that deal."
"Ten million! You really think so? That’s incredible!" Cavalcanti was practically stunned by the sheer weight of those golden numbers.
"And don’t forget," Monte Cristo continued, "all his wealth will co to you eventually, which is only fair since Miss Danglars is an only child. Plus, your own fortune, as your father assured , is nearly equal to your bride’s. But enough about money. You know, Andrea, I think you’ve handled this whole affair quite skillfully."
"Not badly at all," the young man said. "I was born to be a diplomat."
"Well then, you should beco one. Diplomacy isn’t sothing you can learn, it’s instinctive. Have you lost your heart?"
"I’m afraid I have," Andrea replied in the theatrical tone he’d heard actors use at the theater.
"And is your love returned?"
"I suppose so," Andrea said with a triumphant smile, "since I’ve been accepted. But I must not forget one important thing."
"Which is?"
"That I’ve had extraordinary help."
"Nonsense."
"I really have."
"From circumstances?"
"No. From you."
"From ? Not at all, Prince," said Monte Cristo, putting unusual emphasis on the title. "What have I done for you? Aren’t your na, social position, and personal rit enough?"
"No," said Andrea firmly. "It’s pointless for you to deny it, Count. I’m telling you, the influence of a man like you has done more than my na, position, or rit ever could."
"You’re completely wrong, sir," Monte Cristo said coldly. He could sense the manipulative ga Andrea was playing and understood exactly what he was trying to do. "You only gained my protection after your father’s influence and wealth were confird. After all, who introduced us in the first place? Two of my good friends, Lord Wilmore and Abbé Busoni. What encouraged to support you wasn’t acting as your guarantor, but rather your father’s na, which is so well-known and respected in Italy. Personally, I don’t know you at all."
The calm tone and perfect composure made Andrea realize he was being restrained by soone far stronger than himself, and that restraint couldn’t be easily broken.
"Oh, so my father really does have a huge fortune, Count?"
"It appears so, sir," Monte Cristo replied.
"Do you know if the marriage settlent he promised has arrived yet?"
"I’ve been inford about it."
"And the three million?"
"The three million are probably on their way."
"So I’ll actually receive them?"
"Well," the Count said, "I don’t think you’ve ever really lacked money."
Andrea was so surprised he fell silent for a mont. Then, shaking off his thoughts, he said, "Now, sir, I have one request to make, and you’ll understand, even if you find it unpleasant."
"Go ahead," said Monte Cristo.
"Thanks to my good fortune, I’ve made many important connections and have, at least for now, plenty of friends. But getting married the way I am, in front of all of Paris society, I need to be supported by soone distinguished. Since my father won’t be attending, he’s old, covered in wounds, and says traveling causes him terrible pain-"
"Indeed?"
"Well, I’ve co to ask you a favor."
"Of ?"
"Yes, of you."
"And what might that be?"
"To take his place."
"Ah, my dear sir! After all our varied interactions, is it possible you know so little that you’d ask such a thing? Ask to lend you half a million, and, though such a loan is rare, I swear you’d annoy less! You should know, I thought I’d already told you this. When it cos to worldly affairs, especially moral matters, the Count of Monte Cristo has never stopped maintaining the beliefs and even superstitions of the East. I, who have estates in Cairo, Smyrna, and Constantinople, preside at a wedding? Never!"
"So you’re refusing ?"
"Absolutely. Even if you were my son or brother, I’d refuse you the sa way."
"But what am I supposed to do?" Andrea said, disappointed.
"You just said you have a hundred friends."
"True, but you introduced at Mr. Danglars’ house."
"Not at all! Let’s rember the facts correctly. You t him at a dinner party at my ho, and you introduced yourself at his house. That’s completely different."
"Yes, but through my marriage, you’ve promoted that connection."
"? Not in the slightest, I assure you. Rember what I told you when you asked to propose the match. I said, ’Oh, I never arrange marriages, my dear prince, it’s my firm principle.’"
Andrea bit his lip.
"But at least you’ll be there tonight?"
"Will all of Paris be there?"
"Oh, certainly."
"Well, like all of Paris, I’ll be there too," the Count said.
"And will you sign the contract?"
"I see no problem with that. My principles don’t extend that far."
"Well, since you won’t grant more, I must be satisfied with what you’re offering. But one more thing, Count."
"What is it?"
"I need advice."
"Be careful, advice is worse than a favor."
"Oh, you can give this without compromising yourself."
"Tell what it is."
"Is my wife’s dowry five hundred thousand?"
"That’s the amount Mr. Danglars himself announced."
"Should I take it directly, or leave it with the lawyer?"
"These matters are usually handled like this when you want to do things properly. Your two lawyers schedule a eting after the contract is signed, either the next day or the day after. Then they exchange the two portions and give each other receipts. When the marriage is finalized, they place the money at your disposal as the head of the household."
"Because," Andrea said with barely concealed anxiety, "I thought I heard my father-in-law say he planned to invest our money in that famous railway project you ntioned earlier."
"Well," Monte Cristo replied, "everyone says that’s the way to triple your fortune in twelve months. Baron Danglars is a good father who knows how to calculate."
"In that case," Andrea said, "everything’s perfect, except for your refusal, which really troubles ."
"You can only attribute it to my natural hesitations in situations like this."
"Fine," said Andrea. "Let it be as you wish. Tonight at nine, then."
"Until then."
Despite slight resistance from Monte Cristo, whose lips turned pale though he kept his polite smile, Andrea grabbed the Count’s hand, squeezed it, jumped into his carriage, and disappeared.
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