CHAPTER 231: THE UNMASKING: II

Andrea spent the remaining hours before nine o’clock riding around, making visits designed to ensure that the people he’d mentioned would show up at the banker’s mansion in their finest carriages. He dazzled them with promises of shares in ventures that would later drive everyone crazy, schemes in which Danglars was now taking the lead.

By half past eight that evening, the main hall, adjoining gallery, and three other sitting rooms on the same floor were packed with a perfumed crowd. Most didn’t really care about the event itself, but everyone loved being present when there was something new to see.

The rooms were brilliantly lit, light streaming over the gold moldings and silk wall hangings. All the tasteless decorations, which had only their expense to boast about, shone in their full glory.

Miss Eugénie wore an elegantly simple white silk dress with a figured pattern. A single white rose half-hidden in her jet-black hair was her only ornament, no jewelry at all. Yet her eyes showed the perfect confidence that contradicted the modest simplicity of her outfit.

Mrs. Danglars chatted nearby with Debray, Beauchamp, and Château-Renaud. Debray had been admitted to the house for this grand ceremony, but on the same level as everyone else, without any special privileges. Mr. Danglars, surrounded by government officials and men connected to the treasury, was explaining a new tax theory he intended to implement when circumstances forced the government to appoint him to a ministry position.

Andrea, with one of the most fashionable dandies from the opera house hanging on his arm, was explaining, rather cleverly, since he had to be bold to appear confident, his future plans and the new luxuries he intended to introduce to Parisian society with his hundred and seventy-five thousand a year.

The crowd flowed through the rooms like waves of turquoise, rubies, emeralds, opals, and diamonds. As usual, the oldest women wore the most jewelry, and the ugliest ones were the most conspicuous. If there was a beautiful young woman or sweet girl, you had to search for her, she’d be hidden in some corner behind a mother in a turban or an aunt with ridiculous feathers in her hair.

Every moment, amid the crowd’s buzzing and laughter, the doorkeeper’s voice announced some well-known name from finance, a respected military figure, or an illustrious writer. Each announcement caused a slight stir in different groups. But for every person whose arrival sent ripples through that ocean of humanity, how many were received with indifference or a sneer of disdain?

When the massive clock, shaped like the sleeping Endymion, pointed to nine on its golden face, and the mechanical hammer struck nine times, the name "Count of Monte Cristo" rang out. As if struck by electricity, the entire assembly turned toward the door.

The Count wore black with his usual simplicity. His white vest displayed his broad, noble chest, and his black cravat stood out strikingly against the deathly paleness of his face. His only jewelry was a chain so fine the slender gold thread was barely visible against his white vest.

A circle immediately formed around the door. The Count spotted Mrs. Danglars at one end of the room, Mr. Danglars at the other, and Eugénie in front of him. He first approached the baroness, who was chatting with Mrs. de Villefort, who had come alone since Valentine was still sick. Without deviating from his path, the crowd clearing the way for him, he moved from the baroness to Eugénie, complimenting her in such quick, measured terms that the proud artist was quite impressed. Near her stood Miss Louise d’Armilly, who thanked the Count for the letters of introduction he’d so kindly given her for Italy, which she planned to use immediately.

After leaving these ladies, he found himself face to face with Danglars, who had advanced to meet him.

Having completed these three social obligations, Monte Cristo stopped and looked around with an expression that seemed to say, "I’ve done my duty, now let others do theirs."

Andrea, who was in an adjacent room, had felt the sensation caused by Monte Cristo’s arrival and now came forward to pay his respects. He found the Count completely surrounded, everyone eager to speak with him, as always happens with people whose words are few but carry weight.

The lawyers arrived at this moment and arranged their papers on the velvet cloth embroidered with gold that covered the signing table, a gilded table supported by lion’s claws. One lawyer sat down; the other remained standing.

They were about to read the contract that half of Paris had assembled to witness. Everyone took their places, or rather, the ladies formed a circle while the gentlemen commented on Andrea’s feverish agitation, Mr. Danglars’ intense focus, Eugénie’s composure, and the light, casual manner in which the baroness treated this important affair.

The contract was read in profound silence. But as soon as it finished, the buzzing redoubled throughout all the rooms. The brilliant sums, the rolling millions that would be at the command of the two young people, crowning the display of wedding gifts and the young lady’s diamonds in a room set aside for that purpose, had fully exercised their power over the envious assembly.

Miss Danglars’ charms seemed heightened in the young men’s opinion, momentarily outshining the sun itself. As for the ladies, it goes without saying that while they coveted the millions, they thought they didn’t need them, they were beautiful enough without money.

Andrea, surrounded by his friends, complimented and flattered, was beginning to believe in his dream. He was almost dizzy with it all.

The notary solemnly took up the pen, flourished it above his head, and said, "Gentlemen, we are about to sign the contract."

The baron would sign first, then the representative of Mr. Cavalcanti Senior, then the baroness, and finally the "future couple", as legal documents so unpleasantly called them.

The baron took the pen and signed. Then the representative signed. The baroness approached, leaning on Mrs. de Villefort’s arm.

"My dear," she said as she took the pen, "isn’t it annoying? An unexpected development in that murder and theft case at the Count of Monte Cristo’s house, where he nearly became a victim himself, has deprived us of Mr. de Villefort’s presence."

"Really?" said Mr. Danglars in the same tone he might have said, "So what?"

"Actually," said Monte Cristo, stepping closer, "I’m very much afraid I’m the unintentional cause of his absence."

"What, you, Count?" said Mrs. Danglars while signing. "If you are, watch out, I’ll never forgive you."

Andrea’s ears perked up.

"But it’s not my fault, as I’ll explain."

Everyone listened eagerly. Monte Cristo, who so rarely spoke at length, was about to tell a story.

"You remember," the Count said during the deepest silence, "that unfortunate criminal who came to rob me died in my house. The theory is that he was stabbed by his accomplice while trying to escape."

"Yes," said Danglars.

"To examine his wounds, he was undressed, and his clothes were tossed in a corner where the police collected them, except for the vest, which they overlooked."

Andrea turned pale and edged toward the door. He saw a storm cloud rising on the horizon.

"Well, this vest was discovered today, covered with blood and with a hole over the heart."

The ladies screamed. Two or three prepared to faint.

"It was brought to me. No one could guess what this dirty rag was, but I alone suspected it was the murdered man’s vest. My valet, examining this grim relic, felt a paper in the pocket and pulled it out. It was a letter addressed to you, Baron."

"To me?" Danglars cried.

"Yes, to you. I managed to decipher your name under the blood staining the letter," Monte Cristo replied amid the general outburst of amazement.

"But," Mrs. Danglars asked, looking at her husband anxiously, "how could that prevent Mr. de Villefort from-"

"In this simple way, madame," Monte Cristo replied. "The vest and the letter are both what’s called circumstantial evidence. So I sent them to the prosecutor. You understand, my dear Baron, legal procedures are safest in criminal cases. Perhaps it was some plot against you."

Andrea stared steadily at Monte Cristo and disappeared into the second room.

"Possibly," said Danglars. "Wasn’t this murdered man an old convict?"

"Yes," the Count replied. "A criminal named Caderousse."

Danglars turned slightly pale. Andrea reached the anteroom beyond the small sitting room.

"But please, continue signing," said Monte Cristo. "I see my story has caused quite a stir, and I apologize to you, Baroness, and to Miss Danglars."

The baroness, who had signed, handed the pen back to the notary.

"Prince Cavalcanti," the lawyer called. "Prince Cavalcanti, where are you?"

"Andrea! Andrea!" repeated several young men who were already familiar enough with him to use his first name.

"Call the prince! Tell him it’s his turn to sign!" Danglars shouted to one of the servants.

But at that exact moment, the crowd of guests rushed in alarm into the main hall, as if some terrible monster had entered the rooms.

There was indeed reason to retreat, to be alarmed, to scream.

An officer was placing two soldiers at the door of each room and advancing toward Danglars, led by a police commissioner wearing his official sash. Mrs. Danglars screamed and fainted. Danglars, who felt threatened, as guilty consciences are never calm, showed a face of absolute terror even before his guests.

"What’s happening, sir?" Monte Cristo asked, stepping forward to meet the commissioner.

"Which of you gentlemen," the magistrate asked without answering the Count, "goes by the name Andrea Cavalcanti?"

A cry of astonishment rose from every corner of the room. People searched and questioned.

"But who is Andrea Cavalcanti?" Danglars asked in shock.

"An escaped convict from the prison at Toulon."

"And what crime has he committed?"

"He is accused," said the commissioner in his inflexible voice, "of murdering the man named Caderousse, his former prison companion, while escaping from the Count of Monte Cristo’s house."

Monte Cristo cast a quick glance around the room.

Andrea was gone.