The Count of Monte Cristo

“Really?” answered Edmond, with a smile which had in it traces of slight uneasiness. 0039m “Ah, yes,” continued Caderousse, “and capital offers, too; but you know, you will be captain, and who could refuse you then?” “Meaning to say,” replied Dantès, with a smile which but ill-concealed his trouble, “that if I were not a captain——” “Eh—eh!” said Caderousse, shaking his head. “Come, come,” said the sailor, “I have a better opinion than you of women in general, and of Mercédès in particular; and I am certain that, captain or not, she will remain ever faithful to me.” “So much the better—so much the better,” said Caderousse. “When one is going to be married, there is nothing like implicit confidence; but never mind that, my boy,—go and announce your arrival, and let her know all your hopes and prospects.” “I will go directly,” was Edmond’s reply; and, embracing his father, and nodding to Caderousse, he left the apartment. Caderousse lingered for a moment, then taking leave of old Dantès, he went downstairs to rejoin Danglars, who awaited him at the corner of the Rue Senac. “Well,” said Danglars, “did you see him?” “I have just left him,” answered Caderousse. “Did he allude to his hope of being captain?” “He spoke of it as a thing already decided.” “Indeed!” said Danglars, “he is in too much hurry, it appears to me.” “Why, it seems M. Morrel has promised him the thing.” “So that he is quite elated about it?” “Why, yes, he is actually insolent over the matter—has already offered me his patronage, as if he were a grand personage, and proffered me a loan of money, as though he were a banker.” “Which you refused?” “Most assuredly; although I might easily have accepted it, for it was I who put into his hands the first silver he ever earned; but now M. Dantès has no longer any occasion for assistance—he is about to become a captain.” “Pooh!” said Danglars, “he is not one yet.” “Ma foi! it will be as well if he is not,” answered Caderousse; “for if he should be, there will be really no speaking to him.” “If we choose,” replied Danglars, “he will remain what he is; and perhaps become even less than he is.” “What do you mean?” “Nothing—I was speaking to myself. And is he still in love with the Catalane?” “Over head and ears; but, unless I am much mistaken, there will be a storm in that quarter.” 0041m “Explain yourself.” “Why should I?” “It is more important than you think, perhaps. You do not like Dantès?” “I never like upstarts.” “Then tell me all you know about the Catalane.” “I know nothing for certain; only I have seen things which induce me to believe, as I told you, that the future captain will find some annoyance in the vicinity of the Vieilles Infirmeries.” “What have you seen?—come, tell me!” “Well, every time I have seen Mercédès come into the city she has been accompanied by a tall, strapping, black-eyed Catalan, with a red complexion, brown skin, and fierce air, whom she calls cousin.” “Really; and you think this cousin pays her attentions?” “I only suppose so. What else can a strapping chap of twenty-one mean with a fine wench of seventeen?” “And you say that Dantès has gone to the Catalans?” “He went before I came down.” “Let us go the same way; we will stop at La Réserve, and we can drink a glass of La Malgue, whilst we wait for news.” “Come along,” said Caderousse; “but you pay the score.”