listening to you here, my dear M. Andrea; we can chat better in-doors,
and there is no coachman to overhear our conversation." The count
returned to a small drawing-room on the first floor, sat down, and
crossing his legs motioned to the young man to take a seat also. Andrea
assumed his gayest manner. "You know, my dear count," said he, "the
ceremony is to take place this evening. At nine o'clock the contract is
to be signed at my father-in-law's."

"Ah, indeed?" said Monte Cristo.

"What; is it news to you? Has not M. Danglars informed you of the
ceremony?"

"Oh, yes," said the count; "I received a letter from him yesterday, but
I do not think the hour was mentioned."

"Possibly my father-in-law trusted to its general notoriety."

"Well," said Monte Cristo, "you are fortunate, M. Cavalcanti; it is a
most suitable alliance you are contracting, and Mademoiselle Danglars is
a handsome girl."

"Yes, indeed she is," replied Cavalcanti, in a very modest tone.

"Above all, she is very rich,--at least, I believe so," said Monte
Cristo.

"Very rich, do you think?" replied the young man.

"Doubtless; it is said M. Danglars conceals at least half of his
fortune."

"And he acknowledges fifteen or twenty millions," said Andrea with a
look sparkling with joy.

"Without reckoning," added Monte Cristo, "that he is on the eve of
entering into a sort of speculation already in vogue in the United
States and in England, but quite novel in France."

"Yes, yes, I know what you mean,--the railway, of which he has obtained
the grant, is it not?"

"Precisely; it is generally believed he will gain ten millions by that
affair."

"Ten millions! Do you think so? It is magnificent!" said Cavalcanti,
who was quite confounded at the metallic sound of these golden words.
"Without reckoning," replied Monte Cristo, "that all his fortune will
come to you, and justly too, since Mademoiselle Danglars is an only
daughter. Besides, your own fortune, as your father assured me, is
almost equal to that of your betrothed. But enough of money matters.
Do you know, M. Andrea, I think you have managed this affair rather
skilfully?"

"Not badly, by any means," said the young man; "I was born for a
diplomatist."

"Well, you must become a diplomatist; diplomacy, you know, is something
that is not to be acquired; it is instinctive. Have you lost your
heart?"

"Indeed, I fear it," replied Andrea, in the tone in which he had heard
Dorante or Vale