riage."

"It is my mother who dissents; she has a clear and penetrating judgment,
and does not smile on the proposed union. I cannot account for it, but
she seems to entertain some prejudice against the Danglars."

"Ah," said the count, in a somewhat forced tone, "that may be easily
explained; the Comtesse de Morcerf, who is aristocracy and refinement
itself, does not relish the idea of being allied by your marriage with
one of ignoble birth; that is natural enough."

"I do not know if that is her reason," said Albert, "but one thing I
do know, that if this marriage be consummated, it will render her quite
miserable. There was to have been a meeting six weeks ago in order
to talk over and settle the affair; but I had such a sudden attack of
indisposition"--

"Real?" interrupted the count, smiling.

"Oh, real enough, from anxiety doubtless,--at any rate they postponed
the matter for two months. There is no hurry, you know. I am not yet
twenty-one, and Eugenie is only seventeen; but the two months expire
next week. It must be done. My dear count, you cannot imagine how my
mind is harassed. How happy you are in being exempt from all this!"

"Well, and why should not you be free, too? What prevents you from being
so?"

"Oh, it will be too great a disappointment to my father if I do not
marry Mademoiselle Danglars."

"Marry her then," said the count, with a significant shrug of the
shoulders.

"Yes," replied Morcerf, "but that will plunge my mother into positive
grief."

"Then do not marry her," said the count.

"Well, I shall see. I will try and think over what is the best thing
to be done; you will give me your advice, will you not, and if possible
extricate me from my unpleasant position? I think, rather than give pain
to my dear mother, I would run the risk of offending the count." Monte
Cristo turned away; he seemed moved by this last remark. "Ah," said he
to Debray, who had thrown himself into an easy-chair at the farthest
extremity of the salon, and who held a pencil in his right hand and an
account book in his left, "what are you doing there? Are you making a
sketch after Poussin?"

"Oh, no," was the tranquil response; "I am too fond of art to attempt
anything of that sort. I am doing a little sum in arithmetic."

"In arithmetic?"

"Yes; I am calculating--by the way, Morcerf, that indirectly concerns
you--I am calculating what the house of Danglars must have gained by the
last rise in Haiti bonds;