"Baron, baron," cried Albert, "why do you not listen; for a man of your musical taste, what barbarism!"
"All right, all right, joke away," replied Danglars; then turning to Monte-Cristo,―
"But will you undertake to speak to the father?"
"Willingly, if you wish it."
"But let it be done explicitly and positively. If he demands my daughter, let him fix the day―declare his conditions: in short, let us either understand each other, or quarrel. You understand―no more delay."
"Yes, sir, I will give my attention to the subject."
"I do not say I do it with pleasure, but I do expect him to speak out. A banker must, you know, be a slave to his promise." And Danglars sighed as Cavalcanti had done half an hour before.
"Bravo!" cried Morcerf, as the scene closed. Danglars began to look suspiciously at Morcerf, when some one came and whispered a few words to him.
"I shall soon return," said the banker to Monte-Cristo; "wait for me. I shall, perhaps, have something to say to you."
The baroness took advantage of her husband's absence to push open the door of her daughter's study, and Andrea, who was sitting before the piano with Mademoiselle Eugénie, started up like a spring. Albert bowed to Mademoiselle Danglars with a smile, who, not appearing in the least disturbed, returned his bow with her usual coldness. Cavalcanti was evidently embarrassed; he bowed to Morcerf, who replied with the most impertinent look possible. Then Albert launched out in praise of Mademoiselle Danglars' voice, and on his regret that after what he had just heard, he had been unable to be present the previous evening. Cavalcanti being left alone, turned to Monte-Cristo.
"Come," said Madame Danglars, "leave music and compliments, and let us go and take tea."
"Come, Louise," said Mademoiselle Danglars to her friend.
They passed into the next drawing-room, where tea was prepared. Just as they were beginning, in the English fashion, to leave the spoons in their cups, the door again opened, and Danglars entered, visibly agitated. Monte-Cristo observed it particularly, and by a look asked the banker for an explanation.
"I have just received my courier from Greece," said Danglars.
"Ah! ah!" said the count; "that was the reason of your running away from us."
"Yes."
"How is King Otho?" asked Albert, in the most sprightly tone.
Danglars cast another suspicious look toward him without answering,
