The Count of Monte Cristo

Mademoiselle Eugénie Danglars

Château-Renaud cannot imagine what objection Albert can possibly have to Mademoiselle Danglars, setting aside her lack of ancestry and somewhat inferior rank, and observes that, barring all that, she is a deuced fine girl. Albert agrees she is handsome, but not to his taste, which inclines to something softer, gentler, and more feminine. Château-Renaud, having seen his thirtieth summer, assumes a paternal air and remarks that Albert’s parents have chosen him a bride built on the model of Diana the huntress, yet he is still not content. Albert retorts that this very resemblance affrights him, since he would have preferred something more in the manner of the Venus of Milo or Capua, and that the chase-loving Diana, continually surrounded by her nymphs, gives him alarm lest she should one day bring on him the fate of Actæon. A single glance at Mademoiselle Danglars confirms Morcerf’s remark: she is beautiful, but her beauty is of too marked and decided a character to please a fastidious taste. Her raven-black hair seems rebellious, her dark eyes are surmounted by well-arched brows whose defect is an almost habitual frown, and her whole physiognomy wears an expression of firmness and decision at odds with the gentler attributes of her sex. Her nose is what a sculptor would have chosen for a chiselled Juno, her too-large mouth displays pearly teeth set off by brilliant carmine against a pale complexion, and a dark mole of unusual dimensions at the corner of her mouth increases the air of self-dependence. The rest of her person is in keeping with her head, recalling Diana but with a bearing more haughty and resolute. As for her attainments, they are too erudite and masculine for so young a person: she is a perfect linguist, a first-rate artist, writes poetry, and composes music, pursuing the latter with indefatigable perseverance and the assistance of a schoolfellow, Mademoiselle Louise d’Armilly, a young woman of promise as a singer. Although Louise is treated with far more kindness than a governess would receive, Mademoiselle Danglars is careful never to be seen in public with one destined for a theatrical life.

The Intermission

The curtain falls almost immediately after the entrance of Madame Danglars into her box, the band quits the orchestra for the customary half-hour’s interval, and the audience is left at liberty to promenade the salon or lobbies, or to pay and receive visits in their respective boxes. Morcerf and Château-Renaud are among the first to avail themselves of this permission. For an instant, Madame Danglars imagines that the young viscount’s eagerness arises from his impatience to join her party, and she whispers her expectations to her daughter that Albert is hurrying to pay his respects. Mademoiselle Eugénie, however, returns a dissenting movement of the head, and with a cold smile directs her mother’s attention to an opposite box on the first circle, in which sits the Countess G——, and where Morcerf has just made his appearance.

Albert Visits the Countess

Albert enters the Countess G——’s box, and she greets him with the warmth and cordiality of an old acquaintance, thanking him for recognizing her so quickly and bestowing his first visit upon her. Albert assures her that he would have paid his respects sooner had he known of her arrival in Paris and her address, and introduces his friend, Baron de Château-Renaud, as one of the few true gentlemen now to be found in France. Château-Renaud reveals that it was he who informed Albert of the countess’s presence at the races in the Champ-de-Mars, and the countess turns to him eagerly to ask whether he can tell her who won the Jockey Club stakes. The baron regrets that he cannot, having asked Albert the very same question, and Albert offers to satisfy her curiosity about the name of the owner of the winning horse.

Lord Ruthven’s Gift

The countess, intent on the races, is more than willing to be told, and proceeds to relate how she had felt so interested in the splendid roan horse and his elegant little jockey in a pink satin jacket and cap that she prayed for their success as earnestly as though half her fortune were at stake, clapping her hands with joy when they won in gallant style. Imagine her surprise when, upon returning home, the first object she met on the staircase was the identical jockey in the pink jacket, and upon entering her apartments she beheld the very gold cup awarded as the prize. Inside the cup was a small piece of paper bearing the words “From Lord Ruthven to Countess G——.” Morcerf exclaims that he was sure of it, declaring that the owner of the horse was Lord Ruthven himself—the Vampire of the Salle Argentina—and that the count is here in Paris, is his most intimate friend, and has the honor of Château-Renaud’s acquaintance as well. The connection is made through Vampa, the name of the celebrated bandit from whom the count extricated Albert in Italy, plainly the source of the horse’s entry name. The countess is both alarmed and charmed, fearing the count may owe her a grudge yet recognizing his action as that of a friend, and the conversation continues to establish the Count of Monte Cristo as the talk of Paris.