‘Well, in that case,’ said Andrea, ‘why don’t you take your own advice? Why not cash in a half-year, or even a whole one, and retire to Brussels? Instead of looking like a retired baker, you would seem like a fully active bankrupt: that’s a step up.’
‘And how the devil do you expect me to retire on twelve hundred francs?’
‘Now, then, Caderousse,’ said Andrea. ‘You’re getting fussy! Two months ago you were starving to death.’
‘The more you eat,’ said Caderousse, baring his teeth like a laughing monkey or a growling tiger, ‘the more you want. Moreover, I’ve got a plan,’ he added, biting off a huge mouthful of bread with those same teeth, which were sharp and white, despite the man’s age.
Caderousse’s plans terrified Andrea even more than his ideas: the ideas were only the seed, the plan was the full fruit.
‘Tell us this plan,’ he said. ‘It must be a good one!’
‘Why not? Who had the plan that got us out of Monsieur Thing-ummy’s place? I did, it goes without saying. And it wasn’t a bad plan, after all, since we’re both here.’
‘I’m not denying it,’ said Andrea. ‘You do sometimes have a good one. So, let’s hear it.’
‘In that case,’ Caderousse continued, ‘can you, without paying a sou, get me fifteen thousand francs… ? No, fifteen thousand is not enough, I don’t want to become an honest man for less than thirty thousand.’
‘No,’ Andrea replied drily, ‘I can’t.’
‘I don’t think you can have understood me,’ Caderousse replied, coldly and calmly. ‘I said: without paying a sou.’
‘I suppose you’re not asking me to steal, so that I can ruin everything for myself, and you with me, and have both of us taken back where we came from?’
‘Oh, as far as I’m concerned,’ said Caderousse, ‘I don’t mind either way if I’m caught. I’m an odd fish, you know: I sometimes miss the company… I’m not heartless like you, happy if you never see your old friends again!’
This time Andrea did more than shudder: he went pale. ‘Come now, Caderousse,’ he said, ‘don’t do anything foolish.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t, my little Benedetto. Just show me the means to make thirty thousand francs. You don’t have to be involved. Just let me get on with it.’
‘All right, I’ll see, I’ll look for something,’ said Andrea.
‘Meanwhile, you can increase my allowance to five hundred francs a month. I’ve got this idea in my head that I’d like a maid.’
‘Very well, you shall have your five hundred,’ said Andrea. ‘But it’s not going to be easy for me, Caderousse. You’re starting to take advantage…’
‘Huh!’ said Caderousse. ‘You get it from a bottomless chest.’
Andrea seemed to be expecting this, because his eye shone with a brief flame, though one that was immediately extinguished. ‘That’s true,’ he replied. ‘My protector is very good to me.’
‘Your dear protector!’ said Caderousse. ‘How much does he give you every month?’
‘Five thousand francs.’
‘A thousand for every hundred you will be giving me,’ Caderousse said. ‘As they say, only bastards know real good fortune. Five thousand francs a month… What the devil can you do with it all?’
‘Believe me, it soon goes! So, like you, I would prefer a lump sum.’
‘A lump sum… Yes, I understand. Everyone would like a lump sum.’
‘And I am going to get one.’
‘Who will give it to you, then? Your prince?’
‘Yes, my prince; but unfortunately I have to wait.’
‘What for?’ asked Caderousse.
‘His death.’
‘Your prince’s death?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he has provided for me in his will.’
‘Is that so?’
‘On my word.’
‘How much?’
‘Five hundred thousand.’
‘Is that all? Thanks a lot.’
‘I’m telling the truth.’
‘Come on, it’s impossible.’
‘Caderousse, are you my friend?’
‘Of course: in life, to the death!’
‘I’m going to tell you a secret.’
‘Go on.’
‘Listen, then.’
‘Right, then! Not a word.’
‘Well, I think…’ Andrea stopped and looked around.
‘You think… ? Don’t worry, we’re alone.’
‘I think I have found my father.’
‘Your real father?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not Father Cavalcanti?’
‘No. Anyway, he’s gone. No, the real one…’
‘Who is it?’
‘Caderousse, it’s the Count of Monte Cristo.’
‘Huh!’
‘Yes. Don’t you see, it explains everything. Apparently he cannot admit to me openly, but he has had me recognized by Monsieur Cavalcanti and given him fifty thousand francs for doing so.’
‘Fifty thousand francs, to be your father! I would have done it for half as much; or even for twenty, no, fifteen! Why didn’t you think of me, ungrateful wretch!’
‘How did I know, since it all happened while we were inside?’
‘So it did. And you say that in his will… ?’
‘He leaves me five hundred thousand livres.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘He showed it to me; but that’s not all.’
‘There is a codicil, as I just said.’
‘Probably.’
‘And in it… ?’
‘He acknowledges me.’
‘Oh, what a good father! A fine father! A most excellent father!’ Caderousse said, twirling a plate in the air between his hands.
‘Now tell me that I keep any secrets from you!’
‘No, and in my view your trusting nature does you credit. And this prince of fathers, is he rich… ultra-rich?’
‘I think so. He doesn’t know his own wealth.’
‘I can’t believe it!’
‘Dammit, I can see as much, since I’m admitted to his house at all hours. The other day, a boy came from the bank with fifty thousand francs in a portfolio as big as your briefcase. Yesterday, a banker brought him one hundred thousand francs in gold.’
Caderousse was stunned. It seemed to him that the young man’s words rang like metal and he could hear showers of gold coins. ‘And you go into that house?’ he exclaimed naïvely.
‘Whenever I want.’
Caderousse reflected for a moment. It was easy to see that his mind was turning over some deep thought. Then suddenly he exclaimed: ‘Wouldn’t I love to see all that! It must be lovely!’
‘In fact, it’s magnificent,’ Andrea said.
‘Doesn’t he live in the Avenue des Champs-Elysées?’
‘At number thirty.’
‘Ah, number thirty?’ said Caderousse.
‘Yes. A fine house, standing alone in its own grounds, which is all you can see.’
‘Perhaps, but it’s not the outside that interests me; it’s indoors. There must be some fine furniture, huh?’
‘Have you ever seen the Tuileries?’
‘No.’
‘Well, this is better.’
‘Tell me, Andrea, when this good Monte Cristo drops his purse, it must be worth stooping to pick it up?’
‘Oh, heavens! No need to wait for that,’ said Andrea. ‘Money lies around in that house like fruit in an orchard.’
‘Now, you really should take me there one day.’
‘How can I? As whom?’
‘You’re right, but you’ve made my mouth water. I really must see it. I’ll find a way.’
‘Don’t do anything silly, Caderousse.’
‘I’ll introduce myself as a polisher.’
‘They have carpets everywhere.’
‘That’s a pity. I’ll just have to imagine it.’
‘Believe me, t
hat’s the best way.’
‘At least help me to guess what it must be like.’
‘How can I do that?’
‘Nothing simpler. Is it big?’
‘Neither too large, nor too small.’
‘What is the general layout?’
‘Hell! I’d need ink and paper to draw a plan for you.’
‘Here you are!’ Caderousse said at once, going over to his writing-desk to fetch some white paper, ink and a quill. ‘There, now, put it all down on paper, my lad.’
Andrea took the pen with a faint smile and began. ‘As I told you, the house is in its own grounds; do you see? Like this.’ He drew the outline of the garden, the courtyard and the house.
‘High walls?’
‘No, eight or ten feet at most.’
‘That’s risky,’ said Caderousse.
‘In the courtyard, tubs for orange-trees, lawns and flowerbeds.’
‘Any mantraps?’
‘No.’
‘And the stables?’
‘On either side of the fence, you see: there.’ Andrea went on with his plan.
‘Let’s see the ground floor,’ said Caderousse.
‘On the ground floor there’s a dining-room, two drawing-rooms, a billiard-room, a stairway from the hall and a little hidden staircase.’
‘Windows?’
‘Splendid windows, so beautiful and so wide that I honestly do believe a man of your size could climb through a single pane.’
‘Why on earth do they have stairways, with such windows?’
‘What do you think! Extravagance!’
‘But there are shutters?’
‘Yes, there are, but they are never used. He’s eccentric, this Count of Monte Cristo, and likes to see the sky, even at night.’
‘So where do the servants sleep, then?’
‘Oh, they have their own house. Picture a fine storeroom on the right as you go in, where they keep the ladders. Well, on top of that there is a collection of rooms for the servants, with bells corresponding to the rooms.’
‘Hell’s bells!’
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing. I was just saying that they’re expensive to install, bells. And what use are they, I ask you?’
‘At one time there was a dog which used to walk around the courtyard at night, but they’ve taken him to the house in Auteuil – you know, the one you visited?’
‘Yes.’
‘And I was saying only yesterday: “It’s unwise of you, Monsieur le Comte, because when you go to Auteuil, and take your servants, the house remains empty.”
‘ “What about it?” he asked.
‘ “What about it? Well, one day someone will burgle you.” ’
‘What did he say to that?’
‘What did he say?’
‘Yes.’
‘What he said was: “What if I am burgled?” ’
‘Andrea, he must have some mechanical bureau.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Yes, something that traps the thief in a cage and plays a tune. I’m told there was something of the sort at the last Exhibition.’
‘He just has a walnut bureau and I’ve always seen the key in it.’
‘And no one steals from it?’
‘No, his servants are all devoted to him.’
‘There must be something inside that bureau, mustn’t there? Coin?’
‘Perhaps; there’s no way of telling.’
‘And where is it?’
‘On the first floor.’
‘So, make me a plan of the first floor, dear boy, as you did of the ground floor.’
‘That’s easy.’ Andrea took the pen. ‘On the first floor, as you see, there’s an anteroom, a drawing-room, then on the right of that, a library and study, while on the left we have a bedroom and dressing-room. The famous bureau is in the dressing-room.’
‘Is there a window in this dressing-room?’
‘Two: one here, and one here.’ Andrea drew two windows in the room which, on the plan, stood in a corner of the house, like a shorter rectangle joined to the long rectangle of the bedroom.
Caderousse was deep in thought. ‘So, does he often go to Auteuil?’ he asked.
‘Two or three times a week. Tomorrow, for example, he is due to spend the day and the following night there.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘He invited me to dinner.’
‘Wonderful! That’s the way to live!’ said Caderousse. ‘A house in town, a house in the country.’
‘That’s what it means to be rich.’
‘And will you go to dinner.’
‘Probably.’
‘When you dine there, do you stay the night?’
‘If I want to. I’m quite at home in the count’s house.’
Caderousse looked at the young man as if to tear the truth from the depths of his heart; but Andrea took a cigar case out of his pocket, extracted a Havana, calmly lit it and began to smoke with an entirely natural air.
‘When would you like the five hundred francs?’ he asked.
‘Straight away, if you have them.’
Andrea took twenty-five louis out of his pocket.
‘Gold coins?’ said Caderousse. ‘No, thanks!’
‘Why not? Do you despise them?’
‘On the contrary, I have a high regard for them, but I don’t want any.’
‘You’ll gain on the exchange, idiot. Gold is worth five sous.’
‘That’s right, and then the dealer will have your friend Caderousse followed, a hand will fall on his shoulder and he’ll have to explain who these farmers are, paying him his fees in gold coin. Let’s not be silly, dear boy. Just give me my money: round coins with the head of some monarch or other. Anyone can come by a five-franc coin.’
‘You must realize, I don’t have five hundred on me. I would have needed to bring a broker with me to carry it.’
‘In that case, leave it with your concierge; he’s a good man, I’ll come and pick it up.’
‘Today?’
‘Tomorrow. I won’t have time today.’
‘As you say, then. Tomorrow, as I’m setting out for Auteuil, I’ll leave them for you.’
‘Can I count on it?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Because I’m going to hire my maid in advance.’
‘Do it. But that will be the end, won’t it? You won’t torment me any longer?’
‘Never again.’
Caderousse had become so moody that Andrea was afraid he might be obliged to notice the change, so he pretended to be even merrier and more insouciant.
‘You’re full of beans,’ Caderousse said. ‘Anyone would think you’d already come into your inheritance.’
‘No, alas. But the day when I do…’
‘What?’
‘I’ll remember my friends. I’ll say no more.’
‘Yes, and you have such a good memory, too.’
‘What do you expect? I thought you wanted to turn me in for the reward.’
‘Me? What an idea! On the contrary, as a friend, I’m going to give you another piece of advice.’
‘Which is?’
‘To leave the diamond you’ve got on your finger here. I never! Do you want us to be caught? Do you want to do for the pair of us with such idiocies?’
‘How do you mean?’ Andrea asked.
‘What! You put on livery, to disguise yourself as a servant, yet you keep a diamond worth four or five thousand francs on your finger!’
‘Well I’ll be damned! That’s a good estimate. You should be an auctioneer.’
‘I know about diamonds. I used to have some.’
‘I advise you not to boast about it,’ said Andrea; and, without losing his temper, as Caderousse had feared he might at this new piece of extortion, quietly handed over the ring. Caderousse examined it so closely that Andrea realized he was looking to see if the edges of the cut sparkled.
‘It’s a fake,’ said Caderousse.
‘Come, come,’ said Andrea, ‘you must be joking.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about it; we’ll soon see.’ He went across to the window and ran the diamond across the pane. The glass screeched.
‘Confiteor!’1 Caderousse said, slipping the ring on his little finger. ‘I was wrong, but those thieving jewellers are so clever at imitating stones that one no longer dares to go and steal from one of their shops. That’s another branch of the industry paralysed.’
‘Well, is that it?’ Andrea said. ‘Do you have anything else to ask me? Don’t hesitate, while I’m here.’
‘No, you’re a good fellow underneath. I won’t keep you any longer and I’ll try to cure myself of my ambition.’
‘But be careful that the same doesn’t happen when you sell the diamond as you feared might happen with the gold.’
‘I shan’t sell it, don’t worry.’
‘No, not between now and the day after tomorrow, at least,’ the young man thought.
‘You lucky devil!’ said Caderousse. ‘You’re going back to your lackeys, your horses, your carriage and your fiancée.’
‘So I am,’ said Andrea.
‘Here, I hope you’ll make me a good wedding present the day you marry the daughter of my friend Danglars.’
‘I told you: that’s some nonsense you’ve dreamed up.’
‘What kind of dowry?’
‘I told you already…’
‘A million?’
Andrea shrugged his shoulders.
‘Let’s say a million,’ said Caderousse. ‘You’ll never have as much as I’d wish for you.’
‘Thank you,’ said the young man.
‘Don’t mention it,’ Caderousse said, giving a raucous laugh. ‘Wait, I’ll show you the way out.’
‘Don’t bother.’
‘I must.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there’s a little secret on the door, a precautionary measure that I thought I should take: a lock by Huret et Fichet, specially adapted by Gaspard Caderousse. When you’re a capitalist, I’ll make you one.’
‘Thank you,’ said Andrea. ‘I’ll give you a week’s notice.’
They took their leave of one another. Caderousse remained on the landing until he had seen Andrea go down the three flights, and also cross the courtyard. Only then did he hurry back inside, carefully shutting the door and, like a practised architect, started to study the plan that Andrea had left him.
The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) Page 113
