“Yes; summoned by M. de Villefort, who is apparently as anxious to get Mademoiselle Valentine married as M. Danglars is to see Mademoiselle Eugénie settled. It must be a very irksome office to be the father of a grown-up daughter; it seems to make one feverish, and to raise one’s pulse to ninety beats a minute until the deed is done.”
“But M. d’Épinay, unlike you, bears his misfortune patiently.”
“Still more, he talks seriously about the matter, puts on a white tie, and speaks of his family. He entertains a very high opinion of M. and Madame de Villefort.”
“Which they deserve, do they not?”
“I believe they do. M. de Villefort has always passed for a severe but a just man.”
“There is, then, one,” said Monte Cristo, “whom you do not condemn like poor Danglars?”
“Because I am not compelled to marry his daughter perhaps,” replied Albert, laughing.
“Indeed, my dear sir,” said Monte Cristo, “you are revoltingly foppish.”
“I foppish? how do you mean?”
“Yes; pray take a cigar, and cease to defend yourself, and to struggle to escape marrying Mademoiselle Danglars. Let things take their course; perhaps you may not have to retract.”
“Bah!” said Albert, staring.