"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.
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; send it to Rothschild's or Lafitte's, and they will take it of you directly."
"What, though payable at Rome?"
"Certainly; it will only cost you a discount of five thousand or six thousand francs."
The receiver started back.
"Ma foi!" said he, "I prefer waiting till to-morrow. What a proposition!"
"I thought, perhaps," said Danglars, with supreme 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 informed."
"I will come myself."
"Better still, since it will afford me the pleasure of seeing you." They shook hands.
"By the way," said de Boville, "are you not going to the funeral of poor Mademoiselle 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 irreproachable 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."
