“But, while we are speaking of business,” Danglars added, pleased to find an opportunity of changing the subject, “tell me what I am to do for M.
“Give him money, if he is recommended to you, and the recommendation seems good.”
“Excellent; he presented himself this morning with a bond of 40,000 francs, payable at sight, on you, signed by Busoni, and returned by you to me, with your endorsement—of course, I immediately counted him over the forty banknotes.”
Monte Cristo nodded his head in token of assent.
“But that is not all,” continued Danglars; “he has opened an account with my house for his son.”
“May I ask how much he allows the young man?”
“Five thousand francs per month.”
“Sixty thousand francs per year. I thought I was right in believing that Cavalcanti to be a stingy fellow. How can a young man live upon 5,000 francs a month?”
“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.”