Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.75-117
`
` "And yet it has not prevented your sending for me to play me `
` some trick." `
` `
` "Come," said Caderousse, wiping his large knife on his `
` apron, "if I did not like you, do you think I should endure `
` the wretched life you lead me? Think for a moment. You have `
` your servant's clothes on -- you therefore keep a servant; I `
` have none, and am obliged to prepare my own meals. You abuse `
` my cookery because you dine at the table d'hote of the Hotel `
` des Princes, or the Cafe de Paris. Well, I too could keep a `
` servant; I too could have a tilbury; I too could dine where `
` I like; but why do I not? Because I would not annoy my `
` little Benedetto. Come, just acknowledge that I could, eh?" `
` This address was accompanied by a look which was by no means `
` difficult to understand. "Well," said Andrea, "admitting `
` your love, why do you want me to breakfast with you?" `
` `
` "That I may have the pleasure of seeing you, my little `
` fellow." `
` `
` "What is the use of seeing me after we have made all our `
` arrangements?" `
` `
` "Eh, dear friend," said Caderousse, "are wills ever made `
` without codicils? But you first came to breakfast, did you `
` not? Well, sit down, and let us begin with these pilchards, `
` and this fresh butter; which I have put on some vine-leaves `
` to please you, wicked one. Ah, yes; you look at my room, my `
` four straw chairs, my images, three francs each. But what do `
` you expect? This is not the Hotel des Princes." `
` `
` "Come, you are growing discontented, you are no longer `
` happy; you, who only wish to live like a retired baker." `
` Caderousse sighed. "Well, what have you to say? you have `
` seen your dream realized." `
` `
` "I can still say it is a dream; a retired baker, my poor `
` Benedetto, is rich -- he has an annuity." `
` `
` "Well, you have an annuity." `
` `
` "I have?" `
` `
` "Yes, since I bring you your two hundred francs." Caderousse `
` shrugged his shoulders. "It is humiliating," said he, "thus `
` to receive money given grudgingly, ---an uncertain supply `
` which may soon fail. You see I am obliged to economize, in `
` case your prosperity should cease. Well, my friend, fortune `
` is inconstant, as the chaplain of the regiment said. I know `
` your prosperity is great, you rascal; you are to marry the `
` daughter of Danglars." `
` `
` "What? of Danglars?" `
` `
` "Yes, to be sure; must I say Baron Danglars? I might as well `
` say Count Benedetto. He was an old friend of mine and if he `
` had not so bad a memory he ought to invite me to your `
` wedding, seeing he came to mine. Yes, yes, to mine; gad, he `
` was not so proud then, -- he was an under-clerk to the good `
` M. Morrel. I have dined many times with him and the Count of `
` Morcerf, so you see I have some high connections and were I `
` to cultivate them a little, we might meet in the same `
` drawing-rooms." `
` `
` "Come, your jealousy represents everything to you in the `
` wrong light." `
` `
` "That is all very fine, Benedetto mio, but I know what I am `
` saying. Perhaps I may one day put on my best coat, and `
` presenting myself at the great gate, introduce myself. `
` Meanwhile let us sit down and eat." Caderousse set the `
` example and attacked the breakfast with good appetite, `
` praising each dish he set before his visitor. The latter `
` seemed to have resigned himself; he drew the corks, and `
` partook largely of the fish with the garlic and fat. "Ah, `
` mate," said Caderousse, "you are getting on better terms `
` with your old landlord!" `
` `
` "Faith, yes," replied Andrea, whose hunger prevailed over `
` every other feeling. `
` `
` "So you like it, you rogue?" `
` `
` "So much that I wonder how a man who can cook thus can `
` complain of hard living." `
` `
` "Do you see," said Caderousse, "all my happiness is marred `
` by one thought?" `
` `
` "What is that?" `
` `
` "That I am dependent on another, I who have always gained my `
` own livelihood honestly." `
` `
` "Do not let that disturb you, I have enough for two." `
` `
` "No, truly; you may believe me if you will; at the end of `
` every month I am tormented by remorse." `
` `
` "Good Caderousse!" `
` `
` "So much so, that yesterday I would not take the two hundred `
` francs." `
` `
` "Yes, you wished to speak to me; but was it indeed remorse, `
` tell me?" `
` `
` "True remorse; and, besides, an idea had struck me." Andrea `
` shuddered; he always did so at Caderousse's ideas. "It is `
` miserable -- do you see? -- always to wait till the end of `
` the month. -- "Oh," said Andrea philosophically, determined `
` to watch his companion narrowly, "does not life pass in `
` waiting? Do I, for instance, fare better? Well, I wait `
` patiently, do I not?" `
` `
` "Yes; because instead of expecting two hundred wretched `
` francs, you expect five or six thousand, perhaps ten, `
` perhaps even twelve, for you take care not to let any one `
` know the utmost. Down there, you always had little presents `
` and Christmas-boxes which you tried to hide from your poor `
` friend Caderousse. Fortunately he is a cunning fellow, that `
` friend Caderousse." `
` `
` "There you are beginning again to ramble, to talk again and `
` again of the past! But what is the use of teasing me with `
` going all over that again?" `
` `
` "Ah, you are only one and twenty, and can forget the past; I `
` am fifty, and am obliged to recollect it. But let us return `
` to business." `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "I was going to say, if I were in your place" -- `
` `
` "Well." `
` `
` "I would realize" -- `
` `
` "How would you realize?" `
` `
` "I would ask for six months' in advance, under pretence of `
` being able to purchase a farm, then with my six months I `
` would decamp." `
` `
` "Well, well," said Andrea, "that isn't a bad idea." `
` `
` "My dear friend," said Caderousse, "eat of my bread, and `
` take my advice; you will be none the worse off, physically `
` or morally." `
` `
` "But," said Andrea, "why do you not act on the advice you `
` gave me? Why do you not realize a six months', a year's `
` advance even, and retire to Brussels? Instead of living the `
` retired baker, you might live as a bankrupt, using his `
` privileges; that would be very good." `
` `
` "But how the devil would you have me retire on twelve `
` hundred francs?" `
` `
` "Ah, Caderousse," said Andrea, "how covetous you are! Two `
` months ago you were dying with hunger." `
` `
` "The appetite grows by what it feeds on," said Caderousse, `
` grinning and showing his teeth, like a monkey laughing or a `
` tiger growling. "And," added he, biting off with his large `
` white teeth an enormous mouthful of bread, "I have formed a `
` plan." Caderousse's plans alarmed Andrea still more than his `
` ideas; ideas were but the germ, the plan was reality. "Let `
` me see your plan; I dare say it is a pretty one." `
` `
` "Why not? Who formed the plan by which we left the `
` establishment of M ---- ! eh? was it not I? and it was no `
` bad one I believe, since here we are!" `
` `
` "I do not say," replied Andrea, "that you never make a good `
` one; but let us see your plan." `
` `
` "Well," pursued Caderousse, "can you without expending one `
` sou, put me in the way of getting fifteen thousand francs? `
` No, fifteen thousand are not enough, -- I cannot again `
` become an honest man with less than thirty thousand francs." `
` `
` "No," replied Andrea, dryly, "no, I cannot." `
` `
` "I do not think you understand me," replied Caderousse, `
` calmly; "I said without your laying out a sou." `
` `
` "Do you want me to commit a robbery, to spoil all my good `
` fortune -- and yours with mine -- and both of us to be `
` dragged down there again?" `
` `
` "It would make very little difference to me," said `
` Caderousse, "if I were retaken, I am a poor creature to live `
` alone, and sometimes pine for my old comrades; not like you, `
` heartless creature, who would be glad never to see them `
` again." Andrea did more than tremble this time, he turned `
` pale. `
` `
` "Come, Caderousse, no nonsense!" said he. `
`
` "And yet it has not prevented your sending for me to play me `
` some trick." `
` `
` "Come," said Caderousse, wiping his large knife on his `
` apron, "if I did not like you, do you think I should endure `
` the wretched life you lead me? Think for a moment. You have `
` your servant's clothes on -- you therefore keep a servant; I `
` have none, and am obliged to prepare my own meals. You abuse `
` my cookery because you dine at the table d'hote of the Hotel `
` des Princes, or the Cafe de Paris. Well, I too could keep a `
` servant; I too could have a tilbury; I too could dine where `
` I like; but why do I not? Because I would not annoy my `
` little Benedetto. Come, just acknowledge that I could, eh?" `
` This address was accompanied by a look which was by no means `
` difficult to understand. "Well," said Andrea, "admitting `
` your love, why do you want me to breakfast with you?" `
` `
` "That I may have the pleasure of seeing you, my little `
` fellow." `
` `
` "What is the use of seeing me after we have made all our `
` arrangements?" `
` `
` "Eh, dear friend," said Caderousse, "are wills ever made `
` without codicils? But you first came to breakfast, did you `
` not? Well, sit down, and let us begin with these pilchards, `
` and this fresh butter; which I have put on some vine-leaves `
` to please you, wicked one. Ah, yes; you look at my room, my `
` four straw chairs, my images, three francs each. But what do `
` you expect? This is not the Hotel des Princes." `
` `
` "Come, you are growing discontented, you are no longer `
` happy; you, who only wish to live like a retired baker." `
` Caderousse sighed. "Well, what have you to say? you have `
` seen your dream realized." `
` `
` "I can still say it is a dream; a retired baker, my poor `
` Benedetto, is rich -- he has an annuity." `
` `
` "Well, you have an annuity." `
` `
` "I have?" `
` `
` "Yes, since I bring you your two hundred francs." Caderousse `
` shrugged his shoulders. "It is humiliating," said he, "thus `
` to receive money given grudgingly, ---an uncertain supply `
` which may soon fail. You see I am obliged to economize, in `
` case your prosperity should cease. Well, my friend, fortune `
` is inconstant, as the chaplain of the regiment said. I know `
` your prosperity is great, you rascal; you are to marry the `
` daughter of Danglars." `
` `
` "What? of Danglars?" `
` `
` "Yes, to be sure; must I say Baron Danglars? I might as well `
` say Count Benedetto. He was an old friend of mine and if he `
` had not so bad a memory he ought to invite me to your `
` wedding, seeing he came to mine. Yes, yes, to mine; gad, he `
` was not so proud then, -- he was an under-clerk to the good `
` M. Morrel. I have dined many times with him and the Count of `
` Morcerf, so you see I have some high connections and were I `
` to cultivate them a little, we might meet in the same `
` drawing-rooms." `
` `
` "Come, your jealousy represents everything to you in the `
` wrong light." `
` `
` "That is all very fine, Benedetto mio, but I know what I am `
` saying. Perhaps I may one day put on my best coat, and `
` presenting myself at the great gate, introduce myself. `
` Meanwhile let us sit down and eat." Caderousse set the `
` example and attacked the breakfast with good appetite, `
` praising each dish he set before his visitor. The latter `
` seemed to have resigned himself; he drew the corks, and `
` partook largely of the fish with the garlic and fat. "Ah, `
` mate," said Caderousse, "you are getting on better terms `
` with your old landlord!" `
` `
` "Faith, yes," replied Andrea, whose hunger prevailed over `
` every other feeling. `
` `
` "So you like it, you rogue?" `
` `
` "So much that I wonder how a man who can cook thus can `
` complain of hard living." `
` `
` "Do you see," said Caderousse, "all my happiness is marred `
` by one thought?" `
` `
` "What is that?" `
` `
` "That I am dependent on another, I who have always gained my `
` own livelihood honestly." `
` `
` "Do not let that disturb you, I have enough for two." `
` `
` "No, truly; you may believe me if you will; at the end of `
` every month I am tormented by remorse." `
` `
` "Good Caderousse!" `
` `
` "So much so, that yesterday I would not take the two hundred `
` francs." `
` `
` "Yes, you wished to speak to me; but was it indeed remorse, `
` tell me?" `
` `
` "True remorse; and, besides, an idea had struck me." Andrea `
` shuddered; he always did so at Caderousse's ideas. "It is `
` miserable -- do you see? -- always to wait till the end of `
` the month. -- "Oh," said Andrea philosophically, determined `
` to watch his companion narrowly, "does not life pass in `
` waiting? Do I, for instance, fare better? Well, I wait `
` patiently, do I not?" `
` `
` "Yes; because instead of expecting two hundred wretched `
` francs, you expect five or six thousand, perhaps ten, `
` perhaps even twelve, for you take care not to let any one `
` know the utmost. Down there, you always had little presents `
` and Christmas-boxes which you tried to hide from your poor `
` friend Caderousse. Fortunately he is a cunning fellow, that `
` friend Caderousse." `
` `
` "There you are beginning again to ramble, to talk again and `
` again of the past! But what is the use of teasing me with `
` going all over that again?" `
` `
` "Ah, you are only one and twenty, and can forget the past; I `
` am fifty, and am obliged to recollect it. But let us return `
` to business." `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "I was going to say, if I were in your place" -- `
` `
` "Well." `
` `
` "I would realize" -- `
` `
` "How would you realize?" `
` `
` "I would ask for six months' in advance, under pretence of `
` being able to purchase a farm, then with my six months I `
` would decamp." `
` `
` "Well, well," said Andrea, "that isn't a bad idea." `
` `
` "My dear friend," said Caderousse, "eat of my bread, and `
` take my advice; you will be none the worse off, physically `
` or morally." `
` `
` "But," said Andrea, "why do you not act on the advice you `
` gave me? Why do you not realize a six months', a year's `
` advance even, and retire to Brussels? Instead of living the `
` retired baker, you might live as a bankrupt, using his `
` privileges; that would be very good." `
` `
` "But how the devil would you have me retire on twelve `
` hundred francs?" `
` `
` "Ah, Caderousse," said Andrea, "how covetous you are! Two `
` months ago you were dying with hunger." `
` `
` "The appetite grows by what it feeds on," said Caderousse, `
` grinning and showing his teeth, like a monkey laughing or a `
` tiger growling. "And," added he, biting off with his large `
` white teeth an enormous mouthful of bread, "I have formed a `
` plan." Caderousse's plans alarmed Andrea still more than his `
` ideas; ideas were but the germ, the plan was reality. "Let `
` me see your plan; I dare say it is a pretty one." `
` `
` "Why not? Who formed the plan by which we left the `
` establishment of M ---- ! eh? was it not I? and it was no `
` bad one I believe, since here we are!" `
` `
` "I do not say," replied Andrea, "that you never make a good `
` one; but let us see your plan." `
` `
` "Well," pursued Caderousse, "can you without expending one `
` sou, put me in the way of getting fifteen thousand francs? `
` No, fifteen thousand are not enough, -- I cannot again `
` become an honest man with less than thirty thousand francs." `
` `
` "No," replied Andrea, dryly, "no, I cannot." `
` `
` "I do not think you understand me," replied Caderousse, `
` calmly; "I said without your laying out a sou." `
` `
` "Do you want me to commit a robbery, to spoil all my good `
` fortune -- and yours with mine -- and both of us to be `
` dragged down there again?" `
` `
` "It would make very little difference to me," said `
` Caderousse, "if I were retaken, I am a poor creature to live `
` alone, and sometimes pine for my old comrades; not like you, `
` heartless creature, who would be glad never to see them `
` again." Andrea did more than tremble this time, he turned `
` pale. `
` `
` "Come, Caderousse, no nonsense!" said he. `
`