“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?”