drawn up. Mercédès has nothing, nor have I. We settle our property in common. So, you see, our papers were quickly written out, and certainly do not come very expensive."
This joke elicited a fresh burst of applause.
"So that what we presumed to be merely the betrothal feast turns out to be the actual wedding dinner!" said Dauglars.
"No, no!" answered Dantès; "you'll lose nothing. Take it easy. To-morrow morning I start for Paris: four days to go, and four days to return, with one day to discharge the commission intrusted to me, and I shall be back here by the first of March; the next day I give my real marriage feast."
This prospect of fresh festivity redoubled the hilarity of the guests to such a degree, that the elder Dantès, who, at the commencement of the repast, complained of the silence that prevailed, now made vain efforts, amid the general din of voices, to drink to the health and prosperity of the bride and bridegroom.
Dantès, perceiving the wish of his father, responded by a look of grateful pleasure; while Mercédès began to look at the clock, and made a slight gesture to Edmond.
Around the festive board reigned that noisy hilarity and mirthful freedom which is usually found at the termination of social meetings among those of inferior station. Such as had not been able to seat themselves according to their inclination, rose and sought other neighbors. All spoke at the same time, and yet none cared to reply to what his interlocutor said, but merely to his own thoughts.
The paleness of Fernand appeared to have communicated itself to Danglars. As for Fernand himself, he seemed one of the damned in the burning lake; he was among the first to quit the table, and, as though seeking to close his ears to the roar of songs and the clink of glasses, he continued to pace backward and forward.
Caderousse approached him just as Danglars, whom Fernand seemed most anxious to avoid, had joined him in a corner of the room.
"Upon my word," said Caderousse, from whose mind the friendly treatment of Dantès, united with the effect of the excellent wine of Father Pamphile, had effaced every feeling of envy at Dantès' good fortune,—"upon my word, Dantès is a downright good fellow, and when I see him sitting there beside his pretty wife that is so soon to be, I cannot help thinking it would have been a great pity to have served him that trick you were planning yesterday."
"Well," said Danglars, "you saw that it ended in nothing. Poor Fernand was so upset that I was sorry for him at first; but, as he has gone so far as to be his rival's best man, there is nothing more to say."
