Danglars was quite annoyed by the young man’s indifference. He took Monte Cristo aside.
“What do you think of our lover?” said he.
“He appears cool. But, then your word is given.”
“Yes, doubtless I have promised to give my daughter to a man who loves her, but not to one who does not. See him there, cold as marble and proud like his father. If he were rich, if he had Cavalcanti’s fortune, that might be pardoned. Ma foi, I haven’t consulted my daughter; but if she has good taste——”
“Oh,” said Monte Cristo, “my fondness may blind me, but I assure you I consider Morcerf a charming young man who will render your daughter happy and will sooner or later attain a certain amount of distinction, and his father’s position is good.”
“Hem,” said Danglars.
“Why do you doubt?”
“The past—that obscurity on the past.”
“But that does not affect the son.”
“Very true.”
“Now, I beg of you, don’t go off your head. It’s a month now that you have been thinking of this marriage, and you must see that it throws some responsibility on me, for it was at my house you met this young Cavalcanti, whom I do not really know at all.”
“But I do.”
“Have you made inquiry?”
“Is there any need of that! Does not his appearance speak for him? And he is very rich.”
“I am not so sure of that.”
“And yet you said he had money.”
“Fifty thousand livres—a mere trifle.”