THE NEXT MORNING dawned dull and cloudy. During the night the undertakers had executed their melancholy¹ office, and wrapped the corpse² in the winding-sheet, which, whatever may be said about the equality of death, is at least a last proof of the luxury so pleasing in life. This winding-sheet was nothing more than a beautiful piece of cambric, which the young girl had bought a fortnight before. During the evening two men, engaged for the purpose, had carried Noirtier from Valentine's room into his own, and contrary to all expectation there was no difficulty in withdrawing him from his child. The Abbé Busoni had watched till daylight, and then left without calling any one. D'Avrigny returned about eight o'clock in the morning; he met Villefort on his way to Noirtier's room, and accompanied him to see how the old man had slept. They found him in the large arm-chair, which served him for a bed, enjoying a calm, nay³, almost a smiling sleep. They both stood in amazement⁴ at the door.

"See," said d'Avrigny to Villefort, "nature knows how to alleviate⁵ the deepest sorrow. No one can say that M. Noirtier did not love his child, and yet he sleeps."

"Yes, you are right," replied Villefort, surprised; "he sleeps, indeed! And this is the more strange, since the least contradiction keeps him awake all night."

"Grief has stunned⁷ him," replied d'Avrigny; and they both returned thoughtfully to the procureur's study.

"See, I have not slept," said Villefort, showing his undisturbed bed; "grief does not stun⁶ me. I have not been in bed for two nights; but then look at my desk; see what I have written during these two days and nights. I have filled those papers, and have made out the accusation⁸ against the assassin Benedetto. Oh, work, work,--my passion, my joy, my delight,--it is for thee to alleviate my sorrows!" and he convulsively grasped the hand of d'Avrigny.

"Do you require my services now?" asked d'Avrigny.

"No," said Villefort; "only return again at eleven o'clock; at twelve the--the--oh, heavens, my poor, poor child!" and the procureur again becoming a man, lifted up his eyes and groaned⁹.

"Shall you be present in the reception room?"

"No; I have a cousin who has undertaken this sad office. I shall work, doctor--when I work I forget everything." And, indeed, no sooner had the doctor left the room, than he was again absorbed in study. On the doorsteps d'Avrigny met the cousin whom Villefort had mentioned, a personage as insignificant¹⁰ in our story as in the world he occupied--one of those beings designed from their birth to make themselves useful to others. He was punctual, dressed in black, with crape around his hat, and presented himself at his cousin's with a face made up for the occasion, and which he could alter as might be required. At twelve o'clock the mourning-coaches rolled into the paved court, and the Rue¹¹ du Faubourg Saint-Honoré was filled with a crowd of idlers, equally pleased to witness the festivities or the mourning of the rich, and who rush with the same avidity to a funeral procession as to the marriage of a duchess.

Gradually the reception-room filled, and some of our old friends made their appearance--we mean Debray, Chateau-Renaud, and Beauchamp, accompanied by all the leading men of the day at the bar, in literature, or the army, for M. de Villefort moved in the first Parisian circles, less owing to his social position than to his personal merit. The cousin standing¹² at the door ushered¹³ in the guests, and it was rather a relief to the indifferent to see a person as unmoved as themselves, and who did not exact a mournful face or force tears, as would have been the case with a father, a brother, or a lover. Those who were acquainted soon formed into little groups. One of them was made of Debray, Chateau-Renaud, and Beauchamp.

"Poor girl," said Debray, like the rest, paying an involuntary tribute to the sad event,--"poor girl, so young, so rich, so beautiful! Could you have imagined this scene, Chateau-Renaud, when we saw her, at the most three weeks ago, about to sign that contract?"

"Indeed, no," said Chateau-Renaud--"Did you know her?"

"I spoke¹⁴ to her once or twice at Madame de Morcerf's, among the rest; she appeared to me charming, though rather melancholy. Where is her stepmother? Do you know?"

"She is spending the day with the wife of the worthy¹⁵ gentleman who is receiving us."

"Who is he?"

"Whom do you mean?"

"The gentleman who receives us? Is he a deputy?"

"Oh, no. I am condemned¹⁶ to witness those gentlemen every day," said Beauchamp; "but he is perfectly¹⁷ unknown to me."

"Have you mentioned this death in your paper?"

"It has been mentioned, but the article is not mine; indeed, I doubt if it will please M. Villefort, for it says that if four successive deaths had happened anywhere else than in the house of the king's attorney, he would have interested himself somewhat more about it."

"Still," said Chateau-Renaud, "Dr. d'Avrigny, who attends my mother, declares he is in despair about it. But whom are you seeking, Debray?"

"I am seeking the Count of Monte Cristo" said the young man.

"I met him on the boulevard, on my way here," said Beauchamp. "I think he is about to leave Paris; he was going to his banker."

"His banker? Danglars is his banker, is he not?" asked Chateau-Renaud of Debray.

"I believe so," replied the secretary with slight uneasiness. "But Monte Cristo is not the only one I miss here; I do not see Morrel."

"Morrel? Do they know him?" asked Chateau-Renaud. "I think he has only been introduced to Madame de Villefort."

"Still, he ought to have been here," said Debray; "I wonder what will be talked about to-night; this funeral is the news of the day. But hush¹⁸, here comes our minister of justice; he will feel obliged to make some little speech to the cousin," and the three young men drew near to listen. Beauchamp told the truth when he said that on his way to the funeral he had met Monte Cristo, who was directing his steps towards the Rue de la Chausse d'Antin, to M. Danglars'.

The banker saw the carriage of the count enter the court yard, and advanced to meet him with a sad, though affable smile. "Well," said he, extending his hand to Monte Cristo, "I suppose you have come to sympathize with me, for indeed misfortune has taken possession of my house. When I perceived you, I was just asking myself whether I had not wished harm towards those poor Morcerfs, which would have justified¹⁹ the proverb of 'He who wishes misfortunes to happen to others experiences them himself.' Well, on my word of honor, I answered, 'No!' I wished no ill to Morcerf; he was a little proud, perhaps, for a man who like myself has risen from nothing; but we all have our faults. Do you know, count, that persons of our time of life--not that you belong to the class, you are still a young man,--but as I was saying, persons of our time of life have been very unfortunate this year. For example, look at the puritanical²⁰ procureur, who has just lost his daughter, and in fact nearly all his family, in so singular a manner; Morcerf dishonored and dead; and then myself covered with ridicule²¹ through the villany of Benedetto; besides"--

"Besides what?" asked the Count.

"Alas²², do you not know?"

"What new calamity²³?"

"My daughter"--

"Mademoiselle Danglars?"

"Eugénie has left us!"

"Good heavens, what are you telling me?"

"The truth, my dear count. Oh, how happy you must be in not having either wife or children!"

"Do you think so?"

"Indeed I do."

"And so Mademoiselle Danglars"--

"She could not endure the insult offered to us by that wretch²⁴, so she asked permission to travel."

"And is she gone?"

"The other night she left."

"With Madame Danglars?"

"No, with a relation. But still, we have quite lost our dear Eugénie; for I doubt whether her pride will ever allow her to return to France."

"Still, baron²⁵," said Monte Cristo, "family griefs, or indeed any other affliction which would crush a man whose child was his only treasure, are endurable to a millionaire. Philosophers may well say, and practical men will always support the opinion, that money mitigates²⁶ many trials; and if you admit the efficacy of this sovereign balm, you ought to be very easily consoled--you, the king of finance, the focus of immeasurable power."

Danglars looked at him askance, as though to ascertain²⁷ whether he spoke seriously. "Yes," he answered, "if a fortune brings consolation²⁸, I ought to be consoled; I am rich."

"So rich, dear sir, that your fortune resembles the pyramids; if you wished to demolish²⁹ them you could not, and if it were possible, you would not dare!" Danglars smiled at the good-natured pleasantry of the count. "That reminds me," he said, "that when you entered I was on the point of signing five little bonds; I have already signed two: will you allow me to do the same to the others?"

"Pray do so."

There was a moment's silence, during which the noise of the banker's pen was alone heard, while Monte Cristo examined the gilt³⁰ mouldings on the ceiling. "Are they Spanish, Haitian, or Neapolitan bonds?" said Monte Cristo. "No," said Danglars, smiling, "they are bonds on the bank of France, payable³¹ to bearer. Stay, count," he added, "you, who may he called the emperor, if I claim the title of king of finance, have you many pieces of paper of this size, each worth a million?" The count took into his hands the papers, which Danglars had so proudly presented to him, and read:--

"To the Governor of the Bank. Please pay to my order, from the fund deposited by me, the sum of a million, and charge the same to my account.

"BARON DANGLARS."

"One, two, three, four, five," said Monte Cristo; "five millions--why what a Croesus you are!"

"This is how I transact³² business," said Danglars.

"It is really wonderful," said the count; "above all, if, as I suppose, it is payable at sight."

"It is, indeed, said Danglars.

"It is a fine thing to have such credit; really, it is only in France these things are done. Five millions on five little scraps³³ of paper!--it must be seen to be believed."

"You do not doubt it?"

"No!"

"You say so with an accent--stay, you shall be convinced; take my clerk to the bank, and you will see him leave it with an order on the Treasury³⁴ for the same sum."

"No," said Monte Cristo folding the five notes, "most decidedly not; the thing is so curious, I will make the experiment myself. I am credited on you for six millions. I have drawn³⁶ nine hundred thousand francs, you therefore still owe me five millions and a hundred thousand francs. I will take the five scraps of paper that I now hold as bonds, with your signature alone, and here is a receipt in full for the six millions between us. I had prepared it beforehand, for I am much in want of money to-day." And Monte Cristo placed the bonds in his pocket with one hand, while with the other he held out the receipt to Danglars. If a thunderbolt had fallen at the banker's feet, he could not have experienced greater terror.

"What," he stammered³⁷, "do you mean to keep that money? Excuse me, excuse me, but I owe this money to the charity fund,--a deposit which I promised to pay this morning."

"Oh, well, then," said Monte Cristo, "I am not particular about these five notes, pay me in a different form; I wished, from curiosity, to take these, that I might be able to say that without any advice or preparation the house of Danglars had paid me five millions without a minute's delay; it would have been remarkable³⁹. But here are your bonds; pay me differently;" and he held the bonds towards Danglars, who seized them like a vulture extending its claws to withhold⁴⁰ the food that is being wrested⁴¹ from its grasp. Suddenly he rallied, made a violent effort to restrain himself, and then a smile gradually widened the features of his disturbed countenance⁴².

"Certainly," he said, "your receipt is money."

"Oh dear, yes; and if you were at Rome, the house of Thomson & French would make no more difficulty about paying the money on my receipt than you have just done."

"Pardon me, count, pardon me."

"Then I may keep this money?"

"Yes," said Danglars, while the perspiration⁴³ started from the roots of his hair. "Yes, keep it--keep it."

Monte Cristo replaced the notes in his pocket with that indescribable expression which seemed to say, "Come, reflect; if you repent⁴⁴ there is till time."

"No," said Danglars, "no, decidedly no; keep my signatures. But you know none are so formal as bankers in transacting⁴⁵ business; I intended this money for the charity fund, and I seemed to be robbing them if I did not pay them with these precise bonds. How absurd--as if one crown were not as good as another. Excuse me;" and he began to laugh loudly, but nervously⁴⁶.

"Certainly, I excuse you," said Monte Cristo graciously, "and pocket them." And he placed the bonds in his pocket-book.

"But," said Danglars, "there is still a sum of one hundred thousand francs?"

"Oh, a mere³⁸ nothing," said Monte Cristo. "The balance would come to about that sum; but keep it, and we shall be quits."

"Count." said Danglars, "are you speaking seriously?"

"I never joke with bankers," said Monte Cristo in a freezing manner, which repelled⁴⁷ impertinence; and he turned to the door, just as the valet de chambre announced,--

"M. de Boville, receiver-general of the charities."

"Ma foi!" said Monte Cristo; "I think I arrived just in time to obtain your signatures, or they would have been disputed with me."

Danglars again became pale, and hastened to conduct the count out. Monte Cristo exchanged a ceremonious bow with M. de Boville, who was standing in the waiting-room, and who was introduced into Danglars' room as soon as the count had left. The count's sad face was illumined by a faint smile, as he noticed the portfolio⁴⁸ which the receiver-general held in his hand. At the door he found his carriage, and was immediately driven to the bank. Meanwhile Danglars, repressing all emotion, advanced to meet the receiver-general. We need not say that a smile of condescension⁴⁹ was stamped upon his lips. "Good-morning, creditor⁵⁰," said he; "for I wager⁵¹ anything it is the creditor who visits me."

"You are right, baron," answered M. de Boville; "the charities present themselves to you through me: the widows and orphans⁵² depute me to receive alms to the amount of five millions from you."

"And yet they say orphans are to be pitied," said Danglars, wishing to prolong the jest. "Poor things!"

"Here I am in their name," said M. de Boville; "but did you receive my letter yesterday?"

"Yes."

"I have brought my receipt."

"My dear M. de Boville, your widows and orphans must oblige me by waiting twenty-four hours, since M. de Monte Cristo whom you just saw leaving here--you did see him, I think?"

"Yes; well?"

"Well, M. de Monte Cristo has just carried off their five millions."

"How so?"

"The count has an unlimited⁵³ credit upon me; a credit opened by Thomson & French, of Rome; he came to demand five millions at once, which I paid him with checks on the bank. My funds are deposited there, and you can understand that if I draw out ten millions on the same day it will appear rather strange to the governor. Two days will be a different thing," said Danglars, smiling.

"Come," said Boville, with a tone of entire incredulity, "five millions to that gentleman who just left, and who bowed to me as though he knew me?"

"Perhaps he knows you, though you do not know him; M. de Monte Cristo knows everybody."

"Five millions!"

"Here is his receipt. Believe your own eyes." M. de Boville took the paper Danglars presented him, and read:--

"Received of Baron Danglars the sum of five million one hundred thousand francs, to be repaid on demand by the house of Thomson & French of Rome."

"It is really true," said M. de Boville.

"Do you know the house of Thomson & French?"

"Yes, I once had business to transact with it to the amount of 200,000 francs; but since then I have not heard it mentioned."

"It is one of the best houses in Europe," said Danglars, carelessly throwing down the receipt on his desk.

"And he had five millions in your hands alone! Why, this Count of Monte Cristo must be a nabob?"

"Indeed I do not know what he is; he has three unlimited credits--one on me, one on Rothschild, one on Lafitte; and, you see," he added carelessly, "he has given me the preference, by leaving a balance of 100,000 francs." M. de Boville manifested signs of extraordinary admiration⁵⁴. "I must visit him," he said, "and obtain some pious⁵⁵ grant from him."

"Oh, you may make sure of him; his charities alone amount to 20,000 francs a month."

"It is magnificent! I will set before him the example of Madame de Morcerf and her son."

"What example?"

"They gave all their fortune to the hospitals."

"What fortune?"

"Their own--M. de Morcerf's, who is deceased."

"For what reason?"

"Because they would not spend money so guiltily acquired."

"And what are they to live upon?"

"The mother retires into the country, and the son enters the army."

"Well, I must confess, these are scruples⁵⁶."

"I registered their deed of gift yesterday."

"And how much did they possess?"

"Oh, not much--from twelve to thirteen hundred thousand francs. But to return to our millions."

"Certainly," said Danglars, in the most natural tone in the world. "Are you then pressed for this money?"

"Yes; for the examination of our cash takes place to-morrow."

"To-morrow? Why did you not tell me so before? Why, it is as good as a century! At what hour does the examination take place?"

"At two o'clock."

"Send at twelve," said Danglars, smiling. M. de Boville said nothing, but nodded his head, and took up the portfolio. "Now I think of it, you can do better," said Danglars.

"How do you mean?"

"The receipt of M. de Monte Cristo is as good as money; take it to Rothschild's or Lafitte's, and they will take it off your hands at once."

"What, though payable at Rome?"

"Certainly; it will only cost you a discount of 5,000 or 6,000 francs."

The receiver started back.

"Ma foi!" he said, "I prefer waiting till to-morrow. What a proposition!"

"I thought, perhaps," said Danglars with supreme⁵⁷ impertinence, "that you had a deficiency to make up?"

"Indeed," said the receiver.

"And if that were the case it would be worth while to make some sacrifice."

"Thank you, no, sir "

"Then it will be to-morrow."

"Yes; but without fail."

"Ah, you are laughing at me; send to-morrow at twelve, and the bank shall be notified."

"I will come myself."

"Better still, since it will afford me the pleasure of seeing you." They shook hands. "By the way," said M. de Boville, "are you not going to the funeral of poor Mademoiselle de Villefort, which I met on my road here?"

"No," said the banker; "I have appeared rather ridiculous since that affair of Benedetto, so I remain in the background."

"Bah, you are wrong. How were you to blame in that affair?"

"Listen--when one bears an irreproachable⁵⁸ name, as I do, one is rather sensitive."

"Everybody pities you, sir; and, above all, Mademoiselle Danglars!"

"Poor Eugénie!" said Danglars; "do you know she is going to embrace a religious life?"

"No."

"Alas, it is unhappily but too true. The day after the event, she decided³⁵ on leaving Paris with a nun⁵⁹ of her acquaintance; they are gone to seek a very strict convent in Italy or Spain."

"Oh, it is terrible!" and M. de Boville retired⁶⁰ with this exclamation⁶¹, after expressing acute sympathy with the father. But he had scarcely left before Danglars, with an energy of action those can alone understand who have seen Robert Macaire represented by Frederic, [1] exclaimed,--"Fool!" Then enclosing Monte Cristo's receipt in a little pocket-book, he added:--"Yes, come at twelve o'clock; I shall then be far away." Then he double-locked his door, emptied all his drawers, collected about fifty thousand francs in bank-notes, burned several papers, left others exposed to view, and then commenced writing a letter which he addressed:

"To Madame la Baronne Danglars."

"I will place it on her table myself to-night," he murmured. Then taking a passport from his drawer he said,--"Good, it is available for two months longer."

第二天是个阴霾多云的日子。殡仪馆的人在昨夜执行完了他们的任务，把尸体裹在一块包尸布里，尽管有人说死亡面前人人平等，但包尸布却要最后证明他们生前所享受的奢侈。这块包尸布是瓦朗蒂娜在半月以前刚买的一块质地极好的麻布衣料。那天晚上，收尸的人把诺梯瓦埃从瓦朗蒂娜的房间搬回到他自己的房间里，让人出乎意料的是：要他离开他的孩子并没怎么费事。布沙尼长老一直守候到天亮，然后没有同任何人打招呼径自离开了。阿夫里尼是早晨八点钟左右回来的。他在到诺瓦梯埃房间去的路上遇到维尔福，他们去看老人睡得如何。令他们惊奇的是老人在一张大圈椅里，睡得正香，他面色平静，脸带微笑。

“瞧，”阿夫里尼对维尔福说，“上帝知道如此来抚慰人的悲伤。有谁能说诺瓦梯埃先生不爱他的孩子？可是他照样睡着了。”

“是的，您说得很对，”维尔福神色惊奇地回答说，“他真的睡着了！这真奇怪，因为以前最轻微的骚扰就会使他整夜睡不着。”

“悲哀使他麻木了。”阿夫里尼回答，他们深思着回到检察官的书房。

“看，我没有睡过，”维尔福指着他那张根本没动过的床说，“悲哀并没有使我麻木。我有两夜没有睡了，看看我的书桌。我在这两天两夜里面写了很多东西。我写满了那些纸，已写好了控告凶手贝尼代托的起诉状。噢，工作！工作！工作是我的热情，让我愉快，让我喜悦！工作减轻我的悲伤！”他用痉挛的手握住阿夫里尼的手。

“您现在需要我帮忙吗？”阿夫里尼问。

“不，”维尔福说，请你在十一点钟的时候回来，到十二点，那——那——噢，天哪！我那可怜的，可怜的孩子！”检察官的铁石心肠也变软了，他抬起头向上望着呻吟起来。

“您想到客厅里去接待来客吗？”

“不，我的一个堂弟代我担任了这种伤心的职责。我要工作，医生，当我工作的时候，我就忘掉一切悲伤了。”的确，医生一离开书房，维尔福便又专心致志地工作起来。

阿夫里尼在大门口恰好遇见维尔福的堂弟，此人在我们的故事里正如在他这个家族一样，是一个无足轻重的角色，——是那生来就供人差遣的角色。他很守时，穿着黑衣服，手臂上缠着黑纱，带着一副根据情况需要而随时可以变化的面孔去见他的堂兄。到十二点钟，丧车驶进铺着石板的院子圣·奥诺路上挤满了游手好闲的人，这些人对节日有钱人家的丧事就如同节日一样感兴趣，他们象去看一次大出丧同看一位公爵小姐的婚礼一样热烈。客厅被人挤满了，我们的几位老朋友都已经来到，先前是德布雷、夏多·勒诺和波尚，然后是当时司法界、文学界和军界的领袖人物；因为维尔福先生是巴黎社会中的第一流人物，——这，一部分是由于他的社会地位，但更重要的，还是由于他个人才干的力量。

他那位堂弟站在门口接待宾客，他无动于衷，并没有象一位父亲，一位兄长，一个爱人那样哀伤或者勉强挤出几滴眼泪。

这使宾客们感到很轻松，那些相识的人便组成了小团体。其中有一个小团体是由德布雷、夏多·勒诺和波尚组成的。

“可怜的姑娘！”德布雷说，象其他来宾一样，他也对这位年轻姑娘的死言不由衷地说了几句，——“可怜的姑娘，这样年轻，这样有钱，这样漂亮！夏多·勒诺，当我们——那是多久以前的事呀？三个星期，也许最多一个月以前吧——我们不是在这儿参加那次并没有签订成功的婚约仪式的吗？那时你会想到发生这样的事吗？”

“的确想不到。”夏多·勒诺说。

“你认识她吗？”

“我在马尔塞夫夫人家里见过她一两次，不过我觉得她很可爱，当时她有点儿抑郁。她的继母到哪儿去了？你知道吗？”

“她去陪伴接待我们的那位先生的太太去了。”

“他是谁？”

“哪一位？”

“那个接待我们的人。他是议员吗？”

“噢，不，那些议员我每天都见过，”波尚说，“他的面孔我却不认识。”

“这件丧事有没有登报？”

“报纸上提及过，但文章不是我写的。真的，我不知道维尔福先生看了那篇文章是否会很高兴，因为它说，如果那接连四次死亡事件不是发生在检察官的家里，他对这件事情就感到有特别大的兴趣了。”

“可是，”夏多·勒诺说，“为家母看病的阿夫里尼医生却说维尔福情绪非常沮丧。你在找谁呀，德布雷？”

“我在找基督山伯爵。”德布雷道。

“我的银行家？他的银行家是腾格拉尔，是不是？”夏多·勒诺问德布雷。

“我相信是的，”那秘书带着略微有些尴尬地回答。“但这儿不仅只少基督山一个人，我也没有看见莫雷尔。”

“莫雷尔！他们认识他吗？”夏多·勒诺问。

“我记得别人只给他介绍过维尔福夫人。”

“可是，他是应该这儿来的呀，”德布雷说。“今天晚上我们谈论些什么？谈论这件到事件，这是今天的新闻。但是，不要再说了，我们的司法部长来了。他一定得对那个哭哭啼啼的堂弟说几句话。”于是那三个青年赶紧揍过去听。

波尚说的是实话。在他来参加丧礼的途中，他曾遇见过基督山，后者正在朝安顿大马路腾格拉尔先生的府上那个方向驶去。那银行家看见伯爵的马车驶进前院，带着一个伤心但又殷勤的微笑出来迎接他。“噢，”他把手伸给基督山说，“我想您是来向我表示同情吧，因为不幸确实已三番五次光临我们家了。当我看见您的时候，我正在问我自己：究竟我是否伤害了那可怜的马尔塞夫一家人，假若我曾那样希望，那么谚语所说的‘凡希望旁人遭遇不幸者，他自己必也遭遇不幸’那句话就说对了。唉！我以人格保证，不！我决没有希望马尔塞夫遭祸。他有一点儿骄傲，但那或许是因为，象我一样，他也是一个白手起家的人，可是每个人都是有缺点。啊！请看，伯爵，请看看我们这一代的人，——我们这一代人今年都非常倒霉。举例来说，看看那清正严谨的检察官所遭遇的怪事，他虽然刚失去了他的女儿，而事实上他的全家几乎都已经死光了，马尔塞夫已经身败名裂自杀身亡，而我因受贝尼代托的耻辱，而受尽人家的奚落。”

“还有什么？”伯爵问。

“唉！您不知道吗？”

“又有什么新的不幸发生了？”

“我的女儿——”

“腾格拉尔小姐怎样啦？”

“欧热妮已离开我们了！”

“天哪！你在说什么呀？”

“是实话，我亲爱的伯爵。噢，您没有妻子儿女是多幸福哪！”

“您真的这样想吗？”

“我的确这样想。”

“那末腾格拉尔小姐——”

“她无法容忍那坏蛋对我们的羞辱，她要求我允许她去旅行。”

“她已经走了吗？”

“前天晚上走的。”

“与腾格拉尔夫人一起去的吗？”

“不，与一位朋友。可是，我们就怕再也见不到欧热妮了，因为她的骄傲是不允许她再回法国的。”

“可是，男爵呀，”基督山说，“家庭里发生的伤心事，或是其他任何的烦恼，只会压倒那些只有他们的儿女可作为唯一宝物的穷人，但对一位百万富翁，那些痛苦确是可以忍受的。哲学家说得好：金钱可以减轻许多苦恼。这种观点，凡是实事求是的人一直是认为正确的，假如您认为这是灵丹妙药，您应该是非常满足的了，——您是金融界的国王，是一切权力的中心！”

腾格拉尔斜眼望着他，看他说话的态度是否在取笑他。

“是的，”他答道，“假如财富能使人得到慰藉的话，我是理应得到安慰的了，我很有钱嘛。”

“富有极了，我亲爱的男爵，您的财产象金字塔，——您要想毁掉它都不可能，即使可能您也不愿意！”

腾格拉尔对伯爵这种好心的打趣微笑了一下。“我一下想起来了，”他说，“当您进来的时候，我正在签署五张小小的凭单。我已经签了两张，您能允许我把其余那几张也签好吗？”

“请签吧，我亲爱的男爵，请签吧。”

房屋里沉默了一会儿，在这一段时间里，只听见那位银行家嗖嗖的签票声，基督山刚在细看天花板上镀金的图案。

“那是西班牙支票、海地支票或那不勒斯支票吗？”基督山问。

“都不是，”腾格拉尔微笑着说，“那是当场现付的法兰西银行凭单。噢，”他又说，“伯爵，假如我可以称为金融界的国王的话，您自己应该称为金融界皇帝了，但是，象这样的每张价值一百万的支票，您见得很多吗？”

伯爵接过那非常骄傲地递给他的腾格拉尔的那些纸片，读道：

“总经理台鉴，——请在本人存款名下按票面额付一百万正，——腾格拉尔男爵。”

“一，二，三，四，五，”基督山说，“五百万！啊，您简直是一个克罗苏斯［克罗苏斯，六世纪时里地的国王，以富有闻名。——译注］啦！”

“我平时做生意也是这样的！”腾格拉尔说。

“那好极了，”伯爵说，“尤其是，我相信，这是能付现钱的吧。”

“的确是的。”腾格拉尔说。

“有这种信用可不赖，真的，只有在法国才有这样的事情。五张小卡片就等于五百万！不亲眼见到谁也不能相信。”

“难道您怀疑它吗？”

“不。”

“您的口气里好象还有一些怀疑的成份，等一下，我要使您完全相信。跟我的职员到银行里去，您就会看见他留下这些纸片，带着同等面额的现款了。”

“不必了！”基督山一面说，一面收起那五张支票，“这样就不必了，这种事情是这样的稀奇，我要亲自去体验一下。我预定在您这儿提六百万。我已经提用了九十万法郎，所以您还得支付我五百一十万法郎，就给我这五张纸片吧，只要有您的签字我就相信了，这是一张我想用的六百万的收条。这张纸条是我事先准备好的，因为我今天急需钱用。”于是基督山一手把支票放进他的口袋里，一手把收据递给腾格拉尔。即使一个霹雳落到那位银行家的脚前，他也未必会这样惊恐万状了。

“什么！”他结结巴巴地说，“您的意思是现在要提钱吗？对不起，对不起！但这笔钱是我欠医院的，——是我答应在今天早晨付出的一笔存款。”

“噢，嗯，那好！”基督山说，“并不是一定要这几张支票，换一种方式付钱给我吧。我拿这几张支票是因为好奇，希望我可以对人家说：腾格拉尔银行不用准备就可以当时付给我五百万。那一定会使人家惊奇。这几张支票还给你，另外开几张给我吧。”他把那五张纸片递给腾格拉尔，银行家急忙伸手来抓，象是一只秃头鹰隔着铁笼子伸出利爪来要抓回从它那儿失去的食物一样。但他突然停住手，竭力控制住他自己，然后，在他那失态的面孔上渐渐露出了微笑。

“当然罗，”他说，“您的收条就是钱。”

“噢，是的。假如您在罗马，汤姆生·弗伦奇银行就会象您刚才那样不必太麻烦地付款给你。”

“原谅我，伯爵，原谅我。”

“那我现在可以收下这笔钱了？”

“是的，”腾格拉尔说，一边揉着流下来的汗珠，“是的，收下吧，收是吧。”

基督山把那几张支票重新放回到他的口袋里，脸上带着一种说不出的神情，象是在说：“好好，想一想，假如您反悔，现在还来得及。”

“不，”腾格拉尔说，“不。绝对不，收了我签的支票吧。您知道，银行家办事最讲究形式的人。我本来是准备把这笔钱付给医院的，所以我一时头脑糊涂，认为假如不用这几张支票来付钱，就象被抢了钱似的！——就好象这块钱没有那块钱好似的！原谅我。”然后他开始高声笑起来，但那种笑声总掩饰不了他的心慌。

“我当然可以原谅您，”基督山宽宏大量地说，“那我收起来了。”于是他把支票放进他的皮夹里。

“还有一笔十万法郎的款子没有结清。”腾格拉尔说。

“噢，小事一桩！”基督山说，“差额大概是那个数目，但不必付了，我们两清了。”

“伯爵，”腾格拉尔说，“您此话当真吗？”

“我是从来不和银行家开玩笑的，”基督山用冷冰冰的口气说，他老是用这种态度来止住他人的鲁莽，然后他转向了门口，而在这时，跟班进来通报说：“慈善医院主任波维里先生来到。”

“哎呀！”基督山说，“我来得正好，刚好拿到您的支票，不然他们就要和我争执了。”

腾格拉尔的脸色顿时变得苍白，他赶紧跟伯爵告别。基督山与站在候见室里的波维里先生交换了礼节性鞠躬，伯爵离开以后，波维里先生便立刻被引入腾格拉尔的房里。伯爵注意到那位出纳主任的手里拿着一只公文包，他那种十分严肃的脸上不由得掠过一个转瞬即逝的微笑。他在门口登上他的马车，立刻向银行驶去。

这时，腾格拉尔抑制住内心的激动，走上去迎接那位出纳主任。不用说，他的脸上当然挂着一个殷勤的微笑。“早安，债主，”他说，“因为我敢打赌，这次来拜访我的一定是一位债主。”

“您说对了，男爵，”波维里问先生答话，“医院派我来见您。寡妇、孤儿委托我到您这儿来问那五百万捐款。”

“大家说孤儿是应该怜悯的，”腾格拉尔说，借开玩笑来延长时间。“可怜的孩子！”

“我是以他们的名义来见您的，”波维里先生说，“您收到我昨天的信了吗？”

“收到了。”

“今天把收据带来了。”

“我亲爱的波维里先生，我不得不请您的寡妇和孤儿等待二十四小时，因为基督山先生，就是您刚才看见离开的那位先生——您一定看见他了吧，我想？”

“是的，嗯？”

“嗯，基督山先生刚才把他们的五百万带走了。”

“这是怎么回事？”

“伯爵曾在我这儿开了一个无限提款户头，——是罗马汤姆生·弗伦奇银行介绍来的，他刚才来从我这儿立刻提到五百万，我就开了一张银行支票给他。我的资金都存在银行里，而您也应该明白，假如我在一天之内提出一千万，总经理就一定会觉得很奇怪。如果能分两天提，”腾格拉尔微笑着说，“那就不同了。”

“哦，”波维里用一种不信任的口气说，“那位刚才离开的先生已经提去了五百万！他还对我鞠躬，象是我认识他似的。”

“虽然您不认识他，或许他认识您，基督山先生的社交非常广泛。”

“五百万！”

“这是他的收据。请您要圣多马［圣多马，宗教传说他是十二“圣徒”之一，曾怀疑耶稣复活。后人将他比喻多疑的人。——译注］一样，验看一下吧。”

波维里先生接过腾格拉尔递给他的那张纸条，读说：“兹收到腾格拉尔男爵伍百壹拾万法郎正，此款可随时向罗马汤姆生·弗伦奇银行支取。”

“的确是真的！”波维里说。

“您一定知道汤姆生·弗伦奇银行吗？”

“是的，我曾经与它有过二十万法郎的交易，但此后就没有再听人提到过它。”

“那是欧洲最有信誉的银行之一。”腾格拉尔说，把那张收据漫不经心抛在他的写字台上。

“而他光在您的手里就有五百万！看来，这位基督山伯爵是一位富豪了！”

“老实说，我不知道他到底是什么人，但他有三封无限提款的委托书，——一封给我，一封给罗斯希尔德，一封给拉费德。而您看，”他漫不经心地又说，“他把优惠权给了我，并且留下十万法郎给我做手续费用。”

波维里先生用十分钦佩的神情。“我一定去拜访他，求他捐一点款给我们。”

“他每月慈善捐款总在两万以上。”

“真叫人佩服！我当把马尔塞夫夫人和她儿子的事例讲给他听。”

“什么事例？”

“他们把全部财产捐给了医院。”

“什么财产？”

“他们自己的，——已故的马尔塞夫将军给他们留下的全部财产。”

“为了什么原因？”

“因为他们不愿意接受通过犯罪得来的钱。”

 

“那么他们靠什么生活呢？”

“母亲隐居在乡下，儿子去参军。”

“嗯，我已经必须承认，这些都是造孽钱。”

“我昨天把他们的赠契登记好了。”

“他们有多少？”

“噢，不太多！大约一百二三十万法郎左右。来谈论我们的那笔款吧。”

“当然罗，”腾格拉尔用轻松的口气说。“那末，您急于要这笔钱吗？”

“是的，因为我们明天要查点帐目了。”

“明天，您为什么不早告诉我呢？不过明天还早点吧？几点钟开始查点？”

“两点钟。”

“十二点钟送去。”腾格拉尔微笑着说。

 

波维里先生不再说什么，只是点点头，拿起那只公文夹。

“现在我想起来了，您可以有更好的办法。”腾格拉尔说。

“怎么说？”

“基督山先生的收据等于是钱，您拿它到罗斯希尔德或拉费德的银行里去，他们立刻可以给您兑现。”

“什么，在罗马付款的单据都能兑现。”

“当然罗，只收您付千分之五或千分之六的利息就得了。”

那位出纳主任吓得倒退一步。“不！”他说，“我情愿还是等到明天的。亏您想得出！”

“我以为，”腾格拉尔卤莽地说，“要填补呢？”

“啊！”那出纳主任说。

“假如真是那样的话，也就是他做点牺牲了。”

“感谢上帝，不！”波维里先生说。

“那么您愿意等到明天吗，我亲爱的出纳主任？”

“是的，但不会再失约了吗？”

“啊！您在开玩笑！明天十二点派人来，我先通知银行。”

“我亲自来取好了。”

“那敢情好，那样我就可以有幸跟您见一面了。”他们握了握手。

“顺便问问，”波维里先生说，“我到这儿来的路上遇见那可怜的维尔福小姐送葬，您不去送丧吗？”

“不，”那银行家说，“自从发生贝尼代托的事件以后，我似乎成了人家的笑柄，所以我不出头露面！”

“您弄错了。那件事情怎么能怪您呢？”

“听着：当一个人有了象我这样没受过玷污的名誉的时候，他总是有点敏感的。”

“每一个人都会同情您，阁下，尤其同情腾格拉尔小姐！”

“可怜的欧热妮！”腾格拉尔说，“您知道她要进修道院吗？”

“唉！这件事很不幸，但却是真的。发生事情以后的第二天，她就带着一个她所认识的修女离开了巴黎。她们已到意大利或西班牙去寻找一座教规非常正格的修道院去了。”

“噢！真可怕！”波维里先生带着这种表示同情的叹息声出去了。腾格拉尔便做了一个极富有表情的姿态，喊道，傻瓜！”只有看过弗列德里克扮演罗伯·马克［《罗伯·马克》是一八三四年前后在巴黎流行的一个喜剧。——译注］的人才能想象出这个姿势是什么意思。然后，一面把基督山的收据放进一只小皮夹里，一面又说，“好吧，十二点钟的时候来吧，那时我早就离开了。”他把房门上闩落锁，把他所有的抽屉，凑了大约莫五万法郎的钞票，烧了一些文件，其余的让它堆在那儿，然后开始写一封信，信封上写着“腾格拉尔男爵夫人启。”

“我今天晚上亲自去放在她的桌子上，”他低声地说。最后，他从抽屉里拿出一张护照，说，“好！有效期还有两个月哩。”  

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