Chapter 128: The Gambit: I
The baron led the count through room after room of his mansion, each more ostentatiously decorated than the last. Heavy gold fixtures, expensive artwork and crystal chandeliers. Finally, they reached Madame Danglars’ private sitting room, and it was like stepping into a different world entirely.
This octagonal room was elegant in a way the rest of the house wasn’t. Soft pink satin walls covered with delicate white muslin. Antique chairs that actually had character. Painted scenes of shepherds and shepherdesses in an old romantic style decorated the doors, with beautiful pastel medallions completing the aesthetic. It was the only room in the entire mansion that showed any real taste.
The truth was, this room had been completely overlooked when the baron and his trendy architect had renovated the place. They’d hired the most expensive, fashionable decorator money could buy, but somehow missed this one space. Madame Danglars and her friend Lucien Debray had designed it themselves. The baron, who preferred the gaudy style popular decades ago during a particular historical period, absolutely hated his wife’s simple, elegant taste. He wasn’t even allowed in here unless he was bringing someone she actually wanted to see, and even then, he felt more like a butler than the master of the house. His wife’s welcome was warm or icy depending entirely on whether she liked his guest.
Madame Danglars, still beautiful despite being past her prime, sat at an elaborate piano, while Lucien Debray stood nearby, flipping through a photo album. Before the count arrived, Lucien had filled her in on everything he knew about this mysterious man. Everyone remembered Monte Cristo from that breakfast party at Albert de Morcerf’s place. Even Debray, who prided himself on staying cool and detached, couldn’t shake the powerful impression the count had made. So his description to the baroness was colored by his own fascination.
Already intrigued by the wild stories De Morcerf had told about the count, Madame Danglars eagerly soaked up every additional detail from Debray. The casual pose at the piano and album was just for show, a little performance to seem unbothered by the visit.
When they entered, Madame Danglars graced her husband with an unusually warm smile. The count received a formal but graceful courtesy, while Lucien and the count exchanged distant nods, and Lucien gave Danglars a casual wave.
"Baroness," Danglars announced, "allow me to present the Count of Monte Cristo, who comes highly recommended by my business contacts in Rome. Here’s something that will interest every lady in the city: he’s come to live here for a year, during which time he plans to spend six million." He paused for effect. "That means endless balls, dinners, and parties. I trust the count will remember us in his entertainments, just as we’ll certainly remember him in ours."
Despite the crude flattery, Madame Danglars couldn’t help staring with interest at a man who could blow through six million in twelve months and had chosen their city for his extravagant spending spree.
"When did you arrive?" she asked.
"Yesterday morning, madame."
"Coming from some exotic corner of the world, I assume? That seems to be your habit."
"Not this time, madame. I’ve only come from Spain."
"You’ve picked the worst possible time for your first visit. The city is absolutely dead in summer. All the parties are over, the opera companies have left for other cities, the theaters are closed. The only entertainment left is mediocre horse racing at a couple of tracks. Are you planning to enter any horses, count?"
"I’ll do whatever people do here, madame, if I’m lucky enough to find someone who can show me the ropes."
"Are you interested in horses, count?"
"I’ve spent much of my life in the Middle East, madame, and as you probably know, people from that region value only two things, fine horses and beautiful women."
"Oh count," the baroness said with a sly smile, "it would have been more charming to put the ladies first."
"You see, madame, I was right when I said I need someone to teach me proper manners here."
At that moment, Madame Danglars’ favorite maid entered the room. Approaching her mistress, she whispered something urgent. Madame Danglars went pale.
"I can’t believe it. That’s impossible."
"I assure you, madame," the maid replied, "it’s exactly as I said."
Turning sharply to her husband, Madame Danglars demanded, "Is this true?"
"Is what true?" Danglars asked, visibly nervous.
"What my maid just told me."
"What did she tell you?"
"That when my driver went to harness my horses, he discovered they’d been taken from the stables without his knowledge. I want to know what this means."
"Please, madame, let me explain-"
"Oh, I can’t wait to hear this explanation. These two gentlemen can judge between us. But first, let me explain the situation to them." She turned to the count and Debray. "Gentlemen, among the ten horses in Baron Danglars’ stables, two belong exclusively to me, a pair of the most gorgeous, spirited dappled gray horses in the entire city. You know them well, don’t you, Monsieur Debray? Well, I’d promised to lend my carriage to Madame de Villefort for a drive tomorrow. But when my driver went to get the grays this morning, they were gone. Simply gone. No doubt Monsieur Danglars has sacrificed them to make a few thousand in profit. What a despicable thing to do!"
"Madame," Danglars protested, "the horses weren’t safe for you. They were barely four years old, and I was terrified for your safety."
"Nonsense! You couldn’t have been worried, because you know perfectly well I’ve had the best driver in the city working for me for a month. Or did you get rid of him too?"
"My dear, please don’t say any more about it. I promise to get you another pair that looks exactly the same, only calmer and safer."
The baroness gave her husband a look of withering contempt. Pretending not to notice, Danglars turned to Monte Cristo.
"Count, I really wish I’d met you sooner. You’re setting up a household, I assume?"
"Yes," the count replied.
"I would have loved to offer you those horses. I practically gave them away, but as I said, I was desperate to get rid of them. They were only suitable for a young man."
"Thank you for the kind thought," Monte Cristo said, "but this morning I bought an excellent pair of carriage horses at what I thought was a fair price. They’re right outside, actually. Come, Monsieur Debray, you’re an expert, let me get your opinion."
As Debray walked toward the window, Danglars moved closer to his wife.
"I couldn’t tell you in front of the others," he whispered, "but I was offered an insane price for those horses this morning. Some lunatic actually sent his steward to buy them at any cost. I made sixteen thousand on the deal. Don’t look so angry, I’ll give you four thousand to spend however you want, and Eugénie can have two thousand. See? Wasn’t I right to sell them?"
Madame Danglars looked at her husband with utter contempt.
"Good God!" Debray suddenly exclaimed from the window.
"What?" the baroness asked.
"I can’t be mistaken, those are your horses! The exact animals we were just talking about, harnessed to the count’s carriage!"
"My dappled grays?" The baroness rushed to the window. "It really is them!"
Danglars looked absolutely stunned.
"How extraordinary," Monte Cristo said with perfectly feigned surprise.
"I don’t believe it," the banker muttered.
Madame Danglars whispered something to Debray, who approached the count. "The baroness would like to know what you paid her husband for the horses."
"I hardly know," the count replied. "My steward arranged it as a surprise for me. It cost somewhere around thirty thousand, I believe."
Debray relayed this to the baroness. Poor Danglars looked so defeated that Monte Cristo almost seemed to pity him.
"You see," the count said, "how ungrateful women can be. Your thoughtful gesture, ensuring the baroness’s safety by getting rid of dangerous horses, doesn’t seem to have impressed her at all. But that’s how it is, women often prefer what’s dangerous over what’s safe, just out of stubbornness. In my opinion, dear baron, the best approach is to let them have their way and do as they please. Then if anything goes wrong, they have only themselves to blame."