commended to you, and the recommendation
seems good."

"Excellent; he presented himself this morning with a bond of 40,000
francs, payable at sight, on you, signed by Busoni, and returned by you
to me, with your indorsement--of course, I immediately counted him over
the forty bank-notes."

Monte Cristo nodded his head in token of assent. "But that is not all,"
continued Danglars; "he has opened an account with my house for his
son."

"May I ask how much he allows the young man?"

"Five thousand francs per month."

"Sixty thousand francs per year. I thought I was right in believing that
Cavalcanti to be a stingy fellow. How can a young man live upon 5,000
francs a month?"

"But you understand that if the young man should want a few thousands
more"--

"Do not advance it; the father will never repay it. You do not know
these ultramontane millionaires; they are regular misers. And by whom
were they recommended to you?"

"Oh, by the house of Fenzi, one of the best in Florence."

"I do not mean to say you will lose, but, nevertheless, mind you hold to
the terms of the agreement."

"Would you not trust the Cavalcanti?"

"I? oh, I would advance six millions on his signature. I was only
speaking in reference to the second-rate fortunes we were mentioning
just now."

"And with all this, how unassuming he is! I should never have taken him
for anything more than a mere major."

"And you would have flattered him, for certainly, as you say, he has
no manner. The first time I saw him he appeared to me like an old
lieutenant who had grown mouldy under his epaulets. But all the Italians
are the same; they are like old Jews when they are not glittering in
Oriental splendor."

"The young man is better," said Danglars.

"Yes; a little nervous, perhaps, but, upon the whole, he appeared
tolerable. I was uneasy about him."

"Why?"

"Because you met him at my house, just after his introduction into the
world, as they told me. He has been travelling with a very severe tutor,
and had never been to Paris before."

"Ah, I believe noblemen marry amongst themselves, do they not?" asked
Danglars carelessly; "they like to unite their fortunes."

"It is usual, certainly; but Cavalcanti is an original who does nothing
like other people. I cannot help thinking that he has brought his son to
France to choose a wife."

"Do you think so?"

"I am sure of it."

"And you have heard his fortune mentioned?"

"Nothing else was ta