“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’s.”
“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?”