Page:The Count of Monte-Cristo (1887 Volume 3).djvu/210

190 rest having been broken by the waves. I am fond of these jars, upon which, perhaps, misshapen, frightful monsters have fixed their cold, dull eyes, and in which myriads of small fish have slept, seeking a refuge from the pursuit of their enemies."

Meanwhile, Danglars, who had cared little for curiosities, was mechanically tearing off the blossoms of a splendid orange-tree, one after another. When he had finished with the orange-tree, he began at the cactus; but this, not being so easily plucked as the orange-tree, pricked him dreadfully. He shuddered, and rubbed his eyes as though awaking from a dream.

"Sir," said Monte-Cristo to him, "I do not recommend my pictures to you, who possess such splendid paintings; but nevertheless, here are two by Hobbima, a Paul Potter, a Mieris, two by Gerard Douw, a Raphael, a Vandyke, a Zurbaran, and two or three by Murillo, worth looking at."

"Stay!" said Debray; "I recognize this Hobbima."

"Ah, indeed!"

"Yes, it was proposed for the Museum."

"Which, I believe, does not contain one?" said Monte-Cristo.

"No; and yet they refuse to buy it."

"Why?" said Chateau-Renaud.

"You pretend not to know,—because government was not rich enough."

"Ah! pardon me!" said Chateau-Renaud; "I have heard of these things every day during the last eight years, and I cannot understand them yet."

"You will, by and by," said Debray.

"I think not," replied Chateau-Renaud.

"Major Bartolomeo Cavalcanti and Count Andrea Cavalcanti!" announced Baptistin.

A black satin stock, fresh from the maker's hands, gray mustaches, a bold eye, a major's uniform, ornamented with three medals and five crosses,—in fact, the thorough bearing of an old soldier, such was the appearance of Major Bartolomeo Cavalcanti, that tender father, with whom we are already acquainted. Close to him, dressed in entirely new clothes, advanced smilingly Count Andrea Cavalcanti, the dutiful son, whom we also know. The three young people were talking together. On the entrance of the new-comers, their eyes glanced from father to son, and then, naturally enough, rested on the latter, whom they began criticising.

"Cavalcanti!" said Debray,

"A fine name," said Morrel.