“But you understand that if the young man should want a few thousands more—”
“Do not advance it; the father will never repay it. You do not know these ultramontane millionaires; they are regular misers. And by whom were they recommended to you?”
“Oh, by the house of Fenzi, one of the best in Florence.”
“I do not mean to say you will lose, but, nevertheless, mind you hold to the terms of the agreement.”
“Would you not trust the Cavalcanti?”
“I? oh, I would advance ten millions on his signature. I was only speaking in reference to the second-rate fortunes we were mentioning just now.”
“And with all this, how unassuming he is! I should never have taken him for anything more than a mere major.”
“And you would have flattered him, for certainly, as you say, he has no manner. The first time I saw him he appeared to me like an old lieutenant who had grown mouldy under his epaulets. But all the Italians are the same; they are like old Jews when they are not glittering in Oriental splendor.”
“The young man is better,” said Danglars.
“Yes; a little nervous, perhaps, but, upon the whole, he appeared tolerable. I was uneasy about him.”
“Why?”
“Because you met him at my house, just after his introduction into the world, as they told me. He has been travelling with a very severe tutor, and had never been to Paris before.”