"The young man is better," said Danglars.
"Yes; a little nervous, perhaps, but, upon the whole, he appeared tolerable. I was uneasy about him."
"Why?"
"Because you met him at my house, just after his introduction into the world, as they told me. He has been travelling with a very severe tutor, and had never been to Paris before."
"Ah, I believe noblemen marry amongst themselves, do they not?" asked Danglars carelessly; "they like to unite their fortunes."
"It is usual, certainly; but Cavalcanti is an original who does nothing like other people. I cannot help thinking that he has brought his son to France to choose a wife."
"Do you think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"And you have heard his fortune mentioned?"
"Nothing else was talked of; only some said he was worth millions, and others that he did not possess a farthing."
"And what is your opinion?"
"I ought not to influence you, because it is only my own personal impression."
"Well, and it is that"-"My opinion is, that all these old podestas, these ancient condottieri,--for the Cavalcanti have commanded armies and governed provinces,--my opinion, I say, is, that they have buried their millions in corners, the secret of which they have transmitted only to their eldest sons, who have done the same from generation to generation; and the proof of this is seen in their yellow and dry appearance, like the florins of the republic, which, from being constantly gazed upon, have become reflected in them."
"Certainly," said Danglars, "and this is further supported by the fact of their not possessing an inch of land."
"Very little, at least; I know of none which Cavalcanti possesses, excepting his palace in Lucca."
"Ah, he has a palace?" said Danglars, laughing; "come, that is something."
"Yes; and more than that, he lets it to the Minister of Finance while he lives in a simple house. Oh, as I told you before, I think the old fellow is very close."
"Come, you do not flatter him."
"I scarcely know him; I think I have seen him three times in my life; all I know relating to him is through Busoni and himself. He was telling me this morning that, tired of letting his property lie dormant in Italy, which is a dead nation, he wished to find a method, either in France or England, of multiplying his millions, but remember, that though I place great confidence in Busoni, I am not responsible for this."
"Never mind; accept my thanks for the client you have sent me. It is a fine name to inscribe on my ledgers, and my cashier was quite proud of it when I explained to him who the Cavalcanti were. By the way, this is merely a simple question, when this sort of people marry their sons, do they give them any fortune?"