CHAPTER LXXVII
HAYDÉE
CARCELY had the count's horses cleared the angle of the boulevard, than Albert, turning toward the count, burst into a loud fit of laughter,—much too loud, in fact, not to give the idea of its being rather forced.
"Well!" said he, "I will ask you the same question which Charles IX. put to Catherine de Medicis, after the massacre of Saint Bartholomew: 'How have I played my little part?'"
"To what do you allude?" asked Monte-Cristo.
"To the installation of my rival at M. Danglars's!"
"What rival?"
"Ma foi! what rival? why, your protégé, M. Andrea Cavalcanti!"
"Ah, no joking, viscount, if you please; I do not patronize M. Andrea—at least, not as concerns M. Danglars."
"I should blame you for that, if the young man really needed your help; but, happily for me, he can dispense with it."
"What! do you think he is paying his addresses?"
"I am certain of it; watch his rolling eyes, listen to his loving sighs. He aspires to the hand of the proud Eugénie. Why, I have made a rhyme, on my word! Well, it was not my fault; never mind, I repeat he aspires to the hand of the proud Eugénie."
"What does that signify, so long as they favor your suit?"
"But it is not the case, my dear count; on the contrary, I am repulsed on all sides."
"What! on both sides!"
"It is so indeed; Mademoiselle Eugénie scarcely answers me, and Mademoiselle d'Armilly, her confidante, does not speak to me at all."
"But the father has the greatest regard possible for you," said Monte-Cristo.
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