“‘Denaro e santità,
Metà della metà.’
“When they tell me such things, I only shrug my shoulders and say nothing.”
“But you were speaking of Haitians?” said Monte Cristo.
“Ah, Haitians,—that is quite another thing! Haitians are the écarté of French stock-jobbing. We may like bouillotte, delight in whist, be enraptured with boston, and yet grow tired of them all; but we always come back to écarté—it is not only a game, it is a hors-d’œuvre! M. Danglars sold yesterday at 405, and pockets 300,000 francs. Had he but waited till today, the price would have fallen to 205, and instead of gaining 300,000 francs, he would have lost 20 or 25,000.”
“And what has caused the sudden fall from 409 to 206?” asked Monte Cristo. “I am profoundly ignorant of all these stock-jobbing intrigues.”
“Because,” said Albert, laughing, “one piece of news follows another, and there is often great dissimilarity between them.”
“Ah,” said the count, “I see that M. Danglars is accustomed to play at gaining or losing 300,000 francs in a day; he must be enormously rich.”
“It is not he who plays!” exclaimed Lucien; “it is Madame Danglars; she is indeed daring.”
“But you who are a reasonable being, Lucien, and who knows how little dependence is to be placed on the news, since you are at the fountain-head, surely you ought to prevent it,” said Morcerf, with a smile.
“How can I, if her husband fails in controlling her?” asked Lucien; “you know the character of the baroness—no one has any influence with her, and she does precisely what she pleases.”