CHAPTER LXXXVIII
THE INSULT
T the banker's door Beauchamp stopped Morcerf.
"Listen," said he; "but just now I told you it was of M. de Monte-Cristo you must demand an explanation."
"Yes; and we are going to his house."
"Reflect, Morcerf, one moment before you go."
"On what shall I reflect?"
"On the importance of the step you are taking."
"Is it more serious than going to M. Danglars?"
"Yes; M. Danglars is a money-lover, and those who love money, you know, think too much of what they risk to be easily induced to fight a duel. The other is, on the contrary, to all appearance, a true nobleman; but do you not fear to find in him the bravo?"
"I only fear one thing—namely, to find a man who will not fight."
"Do not be alarmed," said Beauchamp, "he will meet you. My only fear is that he will be too strong for you."
"My friend," said Morcerf, with a sweet smile, "that is what I wish; the happiest thing that could occur to me would be to die in my father's stead; that would save us all."
"Your mother would die of grief."
"My poor mother!" said Albert, passing his hand across his eyes, "I know she would; but better so than die of shame."
"Are you quite decided, Albert?"
"Yes; let us go."
"But do you think we shall find the count at home?"
"He intended returning some hours after me, and doubtless he is now at home."
They ordered the driver to take them to No. 30 Champs Elysées. Beauchamp wished to go in alone; but Albert observed, as this was an
195
