An excerpt from the original text.(complete · 3260 words)
e saw in a preceding chapter how Madame Danglars went formally to
announce to Madame de Villefort the approaching marriage of Eugénie
Danglars and M. Andrea Cavalcanti. This formal announcement, which
implied or appeared to imply, the approval of all the persons concerned
in this momentous affair, had been preceded by a scene to which our
readers must be admitted. We beg them to take one step backward, and to
transport themselves, the morning of that day of great catastrophes,
into the showy, gilded salon we have before shown them, and which was
the pride of its owner, Baron Danglars.
In this room, at about ten o’clock in the morning, the banker himself
had been walking to and fro for some minutes thoughtfully and in
evident uneasiness, watching both doors, and listening to every sound.
When his patience was exhausted, he called his valet.
“Étienne,” said he, “see why Mademoiselle Eugénie has asked me to meet
her in the drawing-room, and why she makes me wait so long.”
Having given this vent to his ill-humor, the baron became more calm;
Mademoiselle Danglars had that morning requested an interview with her
father, and had fixed on the gilded drawing-room as the spot. The
singularity of this step, and above all its formality, had not a little
surprised the banker, who had immediately obeyed his daughter by
repairing first to the drawing-room. Étienne soon returned from his
errand.
“Mademoiselle’s lady’s maid says, sir, that mademoiselle is finishing
her toilette, and will be here shortly.”
Danglars nodded, to signify that he was satisfied. To the world and to
his servants Danglars assumed the character of the good-natured man and
the indulgent father. This was one of his parts in the popular comedy
he was performing,—a make-up he had adopted and which suited him about
as well as the masks worn on the classic stage by paternal actors, who
seen from one side, were the image of geniality, and from the other
showed lips drawn down in chronic ill-temper. Let us hasten to say that
in private the genial side descended to the level of the other, so that
generally the indulgent man disappeared to give place to the brutal
husband and domineering father.
“Why the devil does that foolish girl, who pretends to wish to speak to
me, not come into my study? and why on earth does she want to speak to
me at all?”
He was turning this thought over in his brain for the twentieth time,
when the door opened and Eugénie appeared, attired in a figured black
satin dress, her hair dressed and gloves on, as if she were going to
the Italian Opera.
“Well, Eugénie, what is it you want with me? and why in this solemn
drawing-room when the study is so comfortable?”
“I quite understand why you ask, sir,” said Eugénie, making a sign that
her father might be seated, “and in fact your two questions suggest
fully the theme of our conversation. I will answer them both, and
contrary to the usual method, the last first, because it is the least
difficult. I have chosen the drawing-room, sir, as our place of
meeting, in order to avoid the disagreeable impressions and influences
of a banker’s study. Those gilded cashbooks, drawers locked like gates
of fortresses, heaps of bank-bills, come from I know not where, and the
quantities of letters from England, Holland, Spain, India, China, and
Peru, have generally a strange influence on a father’s mind, and make
him forget that there is in the world an interest greater and more
sacred than the good opinion of his correspondents. I have, therefore,
chosen this drawing-room, where you see, smiling and happy in their
magnificent frames, your portrait, mine, my mother’s, and all sorts of
rural landscapes and touching pastorals. I rely much on external
impressions; perhaps, with regard to you, they are immaterial, but I
should be no artist if I had not some fancies.”
“Very well,” replied M. Danglars, who had listened to all this preamble
with imperturbable coolness, but without understanding a word, since
like every man burdened with thoughts of the past, he was occupied with
seeking the thread of his own ideas in those of the speaker.
“There is, then, the second point cleared up, or nearly so,” said
Eugénie, without the least confusion, and with that masculine
pointedness which distinguished her gesture and her language; “and you
appear satisfied with the explanation. Now, let us return to the first.
You ask me why I have requested this interview; I will tell you in two
words, sir; I will not marry count Andrea Cavalcanti.”
Danglars leaped from his chair and raised his eyes and arms towards
heaven.
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“Yes, indeed, sir,” continued Eugénie, still quite calm; “you are
astonished, I see; for since this little affair began, I have not
manifested the slightest opposition, and yet I am always sure, when the
opportunity arrives, to oppose a determined and absolute will to people
who have not consulted me, and things which displease me. However, this
time, my tranquillity, or passiveness as philosophers say, proceeded
from another source; it proceeded from a wish, like a submissive and
devoted daughter” (a slight smile was observable on the purple lips of
the young girl), “to practice obedience.”
“Well?” asked Danglars.
“Well, sir,” replied Eugénie, “I have tried to the very last and now
that the moment has come, I feel in spite of all my efforts that it is
impossible.”
“But,” said Danglars, whose weak mind was at first quite overwhelmed
with the weight of this pitiless logic, marking evident premeditation
and force of will, “what is your reason for this refusal, Eugénie? what
reason do you assign?”
“My reason?” replied the young girl. “Well, it is not that the man is
more ugly, more foolish, or more disagreeable than any other; no, M.
Andrea Cavalcanti may appear to those who look at men’s faces and
figures as a very good specimen of his kind. It is not, either, that my
heart is less touched by him than any other; that would be a
schoolgirl’s reason, which I consider quite beneath me. I actually love
no one, sir; you know it, do you not? I do not then see why, without
real necessity, I should encumber my life with a perpetual companion.
Has not some sage said, ‘Nothing too much’? and another, ‘I carry all
my effects with me’? I have been taught these two aphorisms in Latin
and in Greek; one is, I believe, from Phædrus, and the other from Bias.
Well, my dear father, in the shipwreck of life—for life is an eternal
shipwreck of our hopes—I cast into the sea my useless encumbrance, that
is all, and I remain with my own will, disposed to live perfectly
alone, and consequently perfectly free.”
“Unhappy girl, unhappy girl!” murmured Danglars, turning pale, for he
knew from long experience the solidity of the obstacle he had so
suddenly encountered.
“Unhappy girl,” replied Eugénie, “unhappy girl, do you say, sir? No,
indeed; the exclamation appears quite theatrical and affected. Happy,
on the contrary, for what am I in want of? The world calls me
beautiful. It is something to be well received. I like a favorable
reception; it expands the countenance, and those around me do not then
appear so ugly. I possess a share of wit, and a certain relative
sensibility, which enables me to draw from life in general, for the
support of mine, all I meet with that is good, like the monkey who
cracks the nut to get at its contents. I am rich, for you have one of
the first fortunes in France. I am your only daughter, and you are not
so exacting as the fathers of the Porte Saint-Martin and Gaîté, who
disinherit their daughters for not giving them grandchildren. Besides,
the provident law has deprived you of the power to disinherit me, at
least entirely, as it has also of the power to compel me to marry
Monsieur This or Monsieur That. And so—being, beautiful, witty,
somewhat talented, as the comic operas say, and rich—and that is
happiness, sir—why do you call me unhappy?”
Danglars, seeing his daughter smiling, and proud even to insolence,
could not entirely repress his brutal feelings, but they betrayed
themselves only by an exclamation. Under the fixed and inquiring gaze
levelled at him from under those beautiful black eyebrows, he prudently
turned away, and calmed himself immediately, daunted by the power of a
resolute mind.
“Truly, my daughter,” replied he with a smile, “you are all you boast
of being, excepting one thing; I will not too hastily tell you which,
but would rather leave you to guess it.”
Eugénie looked at Danglars, much surprised that one flower of her crown
of pride, with which she had so superbly decked herself, should be
disputed.
“My daughter,” continued the banker, “you have perfectly explained to
me the sentiments which influence a girl like you, who is determined
she will not marry; now it remains for me to tell you the motives of a
father like me, who has decided that his daughter shall marry.”
Eugénie bowed, not as a submissive daughter, but as an adversary
prepared for a discussion.
“My daughter,” continued Danglars, “when a father asks his daughter to
choose a husband, he has always some reason for wishing her to marry.
Some are affected with the mania of which you spoke just now, that of
living again in their grandchildren. This is not my weakness, I tell
you at once; family joys have no charm for me. I may acknowledge this
to a daughter whom I know to be philosophical enough to understand my
indifference, and not to impute it to me as a crime.”
“This is not to the purpose,” said Eugénie; “let us speak candidly,
sir; I admire candor.”
“Oh,” said Danglars, “I can, when circumstances render it desirable,
adopt your system, although it may not be my general practice. I will
therefore proceed. I have proposed to you to marry, not for your sake,
for indeed I did not think of you in the least at the moment (you
admire candor, and will now be satisfied, I hope); but because it
suited me to marry you as soon as possible, on account of certain
commercial speculations I am desirous of entering into.” Eugénie became
uneasy.
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“It is just as I tell you, I assure you, and you must not be angry with
me, for you have sought this disclosure. I do not willingly enter into
arithmetical explanations with an artist like you, who fears to enter
my study lest she should imbibe disagreeable or anti-poetic impressions
and sensations. But in that same banker’s study, where you very
willingly presented yourself yesterday to ask for the thousand francs I
give you monthly for pocket-money, you must know, my dear young lady,
that many things may be learned, useful even to a girl who will not
marry. There one may learn, for instance, what, out of regard to your
nervous susceptibility, I will inform you of in the drawing-room,
namely, that the credit of a banker is his physical and moral life;
that credit sustains him as breath animates the body; and M. de Monte
Cristo once gave me a lecture on that subject, which I have never
forgotten. There we may learn that as credit sinks, the body becomes a
corpse, and this is what must happen very soon to the banker who is
proud to own so good a logician as you for his daughter.”
But Eugénie, instead of stooping, drew herself up under the blow.
“Ruined?” said she.
“Exactly, my daughter; that is precisely what I mean,” said Danglars,
almost digging his nails into his breast, while he preserved on his
harsh features the smile of the heartless though clever man;
“ruined—yes, that is it.”
“Ah!” said Eugénie.
“Yes, ruined! Now it is revealed, this secret so full of horror, as the
tragic poet says. Now, my daughter, learn from my lips how you may
alleviate this misfortune, so far as it will affect you.”
“Oh,” cried Eugénie, “you are a bad physiognomist, if you imagine I
deplore on my own account the catastrophe of which you warn me. I
ruined? and what will that signify to me? Have I not my talent left?
Can I not, like Pasta, Malibran, Grisi, acquire for myself what you
would never have given me, whatever might have been your fortune, a
hundred or a hundred and fifty thousand livres per annum, for which I
shall be indebted to no one but myself; and which, instead of being
given as you gave me those poor twelve thousand francs, with sour looks
and reproaches for my prodigality, will be accompanied with
acclamations, with bravos, and with flowers? And if I do not possess
that talent, which your smiles prove to me you doubt, should I not
still have that ardent love of independence, which will be a substitute
for wealth, and which in my mind supersedes even the instinct of
self-preservation? No, I grieve not on my own account, I shall always
find a resource; my books, my pencils, my piano, all the things which
cost but little, and which I shall be able to procure, will remain my
own.
“Do you think that I sorrow for Madame Danglars? Undeceive yourself
again; either I am greatly mistaken, or she has provided against the
catastrophe which threatens you, and, which will pass over without
affecting her. She has taken care for herself,—at least I hope so,—for
her attention has not been diverted from her projects by watching over
me. She has fostered my independence by professedly indulging my love
for liberty. Oh, no, sir; from my childhood I have seen too much, and
understood too much, of what has passed around me, for misfortune to
have an undue power over me. From my earliest recollections, I have
been beloved by no one—so much the worse; that has naturally led me to
love no one—so much the better—now you have my profession of faith.”
“Then,” said Danglars, pale with anger, which was not at all due to
offended paternal love,—“then, mademoiselle, you persist in your
determination to accelerate my ruin?”
“Your ruin? I accelerate your ruin? What do you mean? I do not
understand you.”
“So much the better, I have a ray of hope left; listen.”
“I am all attention,” said Eugénie, looking so earnestly at her father
that it was an effort for the latter to endure her unrelenting gaze.
“M. Cavalcanti,” continued Danglars, “is about to marry you, and will
place in my hands his fortune, amounting to three million livres.”
“That is admirable!” said Eugénie with sovereign contempt, smoothing
her gloves out one upon the other.
“You think I shall deprive you of those three millions,” said Danglars;
“but do not fear it. They are destined to produce at least ten. I and a
brother banker have obtained a grant of a railway, the only industrial
enterprise which in these days promises to make good the fabulous
prospects that Law once held out to the eternally deluded Parisians, in
the fantastic Mississippi scheme. As I look at it, a millionth part of
a railway is worth fully as much as an acre of waste land on the banks
of the Ohio. We make in our case a deposit, on a mortgage, which is an
advance, as you see, since we gain at least ten, fifteen, twenty, or a
hundred livres’ worth of iron in exchange for our money. Well, within a
week I am to deposit four millions for my share; the four millions, I
promise you, will produce ten or twelve.”
“But during my visit to you the day before yesterday, sir, which you
appear to recollect so well,” replied Eugénie, “I saw you arranging a
deposit—is not that the term?—of five millions and a half; you even
pointed it out to me in two drafts on the treasury, and you were
astonished that so valuable a paper did not dazzle my eyes like
lightning.”
“Yes, but those five millions and a half are not mine, and are only a
proof of the great confidence placed in me; my title of popular banker
has gained me the confidence of charitable institutions, and the five
millions and a half belong to them; at any other time I should not have
hesitated to make use of them, but the great losses I have recently
sustained are well known, and, as I told you, my credit is rather
shaken. That deposit may be at any moment withdrawn, and if I had
employed it for another purpose, I should bring on me a disgraceful
bankruptcy. I do not despise bankruptcies, believe me, but they must be
those which enrich, not those which ruin. Now, if you marry M.
Cavalcanti, and I get the three millions, or even if it is thought I am
going to get them, my credit will be restored, and my fortune, which
for the last month or two has been swallowed up in gulfs which have
been opened in my path by an inconceivable fatality, will revive. Do
you understand me?”
“Perfectly; you pledge me for three millions, do you not?”
“The greater the amount, the more flattering it is to you; it gives you
an idea of your value.”
“Thank you. One word more, sir; do you promise me to make what use you
can of the report of the fortune M. Cavalcanti will bring without
touching the money? This is no act of selfishness, but of delicacy. I
am willing to help rebuild your fortune, but I will not be an
accomplice in the ruin of others.”
“But since I tell you,” cried Danglars, “that with these three
million——”
“Do you expect to recover your position, sir, without touching those
three million?”
“I hope so, if the marriage should take place and confirm my credit.”
“Shall you be able to pay M. Cavalcanti the five hundred thousand
francs you promise for my dowry?”
“He shall receive them on returning from the mayor’s20.”
“Very well!”
“What next? what more do you want?”
“I wish to know if, in demanding my signature, you leave me entirely
free in my person?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then, as I said before, sir,—very well; I am ready to marry M.
Cavalcanti.”
“But what are you up to?”
“Ah, that is my affair. What advantage should I have over you, if
knowing your secret I were to tell you mine?”
Danglars bit his lips. “Then,” said he, “you are ready to pay the
official visits, which are absolutely indispensable?”
“Yes,” replied Eugénie.
“And to sign the contract in three days?”
“Yes.”
“Then, in my turn, I also say, very well!”
Danglars pressed his daughter’s hand in his. But, extraordinary to
relate, the father did not say, “Thank you, my child,” nor did the
daughter smile at her father.
“Is the conference ended?” asked Eugénie, rising.
Danglars motioned that he had nothing more to say. Five minutes
afterwards the piano resounded to the touch of Mademoiselle d’Armilly’s
fingers, and Mademoiselle Danglars was singing Brabantio’s malediction
on Desdemona. At the end of the piece Étienne entered, and announced to
Eugénie that the horses were to the carriage, and that the baroness was
waiting for her to pay her visits. We have seen them at Villefort’s;
they proceeded then on their course.
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VOLUME FIVE
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Let's Analyse the Pattern
Allowing someone you care about to experience controlled, temporary pain in order to protect them from greater harm or achieve a crucial goal.
Why This Matters
Connect literature to life
This chapter teaches how to distinguish between someone withholding help because they don't care versus withholding help because they're protecting you in ways you can't see.
Practice This Today
Next time someone you trust seems to be letting you struggle when they could easily help, ask yourself: could their silence be protecting something larger that I can't see yet?
Now let's explore the literary elements.
Key Quotes & Analysis
"I have been slowly accustoming her to the poison, so that when the fatal dose was administered, it would have no effect."
Context: The Count explains to Maximilian how he's been secretly protecting Valentine
This reveals the Count's evolution from destroyer to protector. He's using knowledge gained from his own suffering to save others, showing his transformation from vengeance to justice.
In Today's Words:
I've been building up her immunity so when someone tried to kill her, it wouldn't work.
"She is not dead, she sleeps. In an hour she will awaken."
Context: The Count reveals Valentine's apparent death is actually protective sleep
This moment shows the Count choosing to preserve life rather than allow his enemies' crimes to claim another victim. It's his declaration that protecting the innocent has become more important than punishing the guilty.
In Today's Words:
She's not dead, just knocked out. She'll wake up in an hour.
"You see that God, whom you have never ceased to pray to, has heard your prayer and has preserved Valentine to you."
Context: The Count comforts Maximilian after revealing Valentine is alive
The Count positions himself as an instrument of divine justice rather than personal revenge. This shows his recognition that his power should serve a higher purpose than his own pain.
In Today's Words:
See? Someone upstairs was looking out for you and made sure she'd be okay.
Thematic Threads
Identity
In This Chapter
The Count's identity continues evolving from vengeful prisoner to active protector, using his dark knowledge to preserve life rather than destroy it
Development
Major shift from earlier chapters where his identity was purely focused on revenge and destruction
In Your Life:
You might recognize how your own identity shifts when you move from focusing on past hurts to actively protecting others
Personal Growth
In This Chapter
The Count demonstrates growth by choosing salvation over destruction, showing he's learned to balance justice with mercy
Development
Culmination of gradual growth shown throughout the book as his humanity slowly returns
In Your Life:
You might see this when you realize you're more interested in building something good than tearing down what hurt you
Human Relationships
In This Chapter
Maximilian's genuine grief forces the Count to confront how his actions affect those he cares about, showing love requires considering others' pain
Development
Builds on earlier themes of how the Count's isolation prevented him from understanding relationship consequences
In Your Life:
You might recognize this when your decisions start being shaped more by how they affect people you love than by what you want
Social Expectations
In This Chapter
The Count operates outside social norms by faking Valentine's death, but does so to preserve rather than destroy social bonds
Development
Evolution from earlier chapters where he broke social rules for revenge to now breaking them for protection
In Your Life:
You might see this when you have to work around official systems or social expectations to actually help someone
Class
In This Chapter
The Count's aristocratic position gives him resources and knowledge to protect Valentine in ways others couldn't, showing how privilege can serve justice
Development
Shift from using class advantages for revenge to using them for protection and healing
In Your Life:
You might recognize how whatever advantages you have—knowledge, connections, resources—can be used to protect rather than just advance yourself
You now have the context. Time to form your own thoughts.
Discussion Questions
- 1
Why does the Count let Maximilian believe Valentine is dead instead of telling him the truth about his plan to save her?
analysis • surface - 2
What does the Count's decision to build Valentine's immunity through controlled poisoning reveal about how his mission has changed from pure revenge?
analysis • medium - 3
Think of a time when someone you trusted didn't tell you the full truth about a situation. Looking back, was there a protective reason you couldn't see at the time?
application • medium - 4
When is it justified to let someone you care about suffer temporarily to protect them from greater harm, and how do you know the difference between protection and manipulation?
application • deep - 5
What does Maximilian's genuine grief teach us about the cost of protecting others through strategic withholding of information?
reflection • deep
Critical Thinking Exercise
Map Your Protection Strategies
Think of someone you care about who is currently facing a challenge. Write down three different ways you could respond: immediate rescue, complete honesty about your concerns, or strategic patience. For each approach, predict both the short-term and long-term consequences for that person.
Consider:
- •Consider whether your urge to help immediately serves their growth or your own anxiety
- •Think about whether they have the emotional capacity to handle full truth right now
- •Examine whether temporary pain might teach them something crucial for their future
Journaling Prompt
Write about a time when someone let you struggle through something difficult instead of rescuing you immediately. What did you learn that you wouldn't have gained if they had stepped in right away?
Coming Up Next...
Chapter 96: The Contract
With Valentine saved but still appearing dead to the world, the Count must orchestrate an elaborate deception to protect her while ensuring justice is served. The final pieces of his grand plan begin to fall into place.
