Respawned as The Count of Glow-Up-Chapter 245: Five Million: II

"Oh, well then," Monte Cristo said calmly, "I’m not particular about these five notes. Pay me differently. I was just curious to take these so I could say that without any warning, the house of Danglars paid me five million without a moment’s delay. It would’ve been quite impressive. But here, take your bonds back. Pay me another way."

He held the bonds toward Danglars, who snatched them like a vulture grabbing food that was being pulled away. Suddenly he recovered himself, made a violent effort at self-control, and forced a smile across his disturbed features.

"Of course," he said. "Your receipt is as good as money."

"Oh, absolutely. And if you were in Rome, the house of Thomson & French would pay on my receipt just as readily as you did."

"Forgive me, Count, forgive me."

"So I can keep this money?"

"Yes," Danglars said, sweat beading at his hairline. "Yes, keep it."

Monte Cristo returned the notes to his pocket with an indescribable expression that seemed to say, "Think carefully. If you change your mind, there’s still time."

"No," Danglars said quickly. "No, definitely keep my signatures. But you understand, bankers are extremely formal in business matters. I intended this money for the charity fund, and I’d feel like I was robbing them if I didn’t pay with these exact bonds. How ridiculous, as if one coin isn’t as good as another! Excuse me." He began laughing loudly but nervously.

"Of course I excuse you," Monte Cristo said graciously, pocketing the bonds. "And I’ll pocket these."

He placed them in his wallet.

"But," Danglars said, "there’s still a balance of one hundred thousand francs."

"Oh, a mere trifle," Monte Cristo said. "The balance comes to about that. Keep it, and we’ll call it even."

"Count," Danglars said, "are you serious?"

"I never joke with bankers," Monte Cristo replied in an icy tone that shut down any further objection. He turned toward the door just as the servant announced:

"Monsieur de Boville, Director of Charities."

"Well!" Monte Cristo said. "I think I arrived just in time to get your signatures, or they would’ve been contested."

Danglars went pale again and hurried to escort the Count out. Monte Cristo exchanged a formal bow with Monsieur de Boville, who stood waiting in the anteroom. As soon as the Count left, Boville was shown into Danglars’ office.

The Count’s sad expression lightened with a faint smile as he noticed the portfolio Boville carried. At the door, his carriage waited to take him straight to the bank.

Meanwhile, Danglars suppressed his panic and advanced to meet the charity director, a condescending smile plastered on his lips.

"Good morning, creditor," he said. "I bet you’re here to collect money from me."

"You’re absolutely right, Baron," Boville answered. "The charities present themselves through me. The widows and orphans have sent me to receive your donation of five million francs."

"And yet they say orphans are pitiable," Danglars joked, trying to keep things light. "Poor things!"

"Here I am representing them," Boville said. "Did you receive my letter yesterday?"

"Yes."

"I brought my receipt."

"My dear Monsieur de Boville, your widows and orphans will have to wait twenty-four hours. Monsieur de Monte Cristo, whom you just saw leaving, you did see him, correct?"

"Yes. What about him?"

"Well, Monsieur de Monte Cristo just walked off with their five million."

"How’s that possible?"

"The Count has unlimited credit with me, opened by Thomson & French of Rome. He came to demand five million immediately, which I paid him with checks on the bank. My funds are deposited there, and you can understand that if I withdraw ten million in a single day, it’ll look rather suspicious to the bank governor. Two days makes a difference," Danglars said with a smile.

"Come now," Boville said, his tone completely skeptical. "Five million to that gentleman who just left and bowed to me as if he knew me?"

"Perhaps he knows you, though you don’t know him. Monsieur de Monte Cristo knows everybody."

"Five million!"

"Here’s his receipt. See for yourself."

Boville took the paper and read:

"Received from Baron Danglars the sum of five million one hundred thousand francs, to be repaid on demand by the house of Thomson & French of Rome."

"It’s actually true," Boville said, stunned.

"Do you know the house of Thomson & French?"

"Yes, I once had business with them for two hundred thousand francs. But I haven’t heard their name mentioned since."

"It’s one of the best banking houses in Europe," Danglars said casually, tossing the receipt onto his desk.

"And he had five million in your hands alone! This Count of Monte Cristo must be incredibly wealthy!"

"I honestly don’t know what he is. He has three unlimited credit accounts, one with me, one with Rothschild, one with Lafitte. And as you can see," he added carelessly, "he’s shown me preference by leaving a balance of one hundred thousand francs."

Boville looked extraordinarily impressed.

"I must visit him," he said, "and request some charitable contribution."

"Oh, you can count on him. His charitable donations alone total twenty thousand francs per month."

"That’s magnificent! I’ll present him with the example of Madame de Morcerf and her son."

"What example?" 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"They donated their entire fortune to the hospitals."

"What fortune?"

"Their own, everything from the deceased Monsieur de Morcerf."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because they refused to live on money acquired so dishonorably."

"And what will they live on now?"

"The mother is retiring to the countryside, and the son is joining the army."

"Well, those are some serious scruples."

"I registered their deed of gift yesterday."

"How much did they have?"

"Not much, about twelve to thirteen hundred thousand francs. But let’s get back to our millions."

"Of course," Danglars said in the most natural tone possible. "Are you in a rush for this money?"

"Yes, our cash audit happens tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? That’s practically forever! What time is the audit?"

"Two o’clock."

"Come by at noon," Danglars said with a smile.

Boville said nothing but nodded and picked up his portfolio.

"Wait, I just thought of something," Danglars said. "You can do even better."

"How?"

"Monsieur de Monte Cristo’s receipt is as good as cash. Take it to Rothschild or Lafitte, and they’ll cash it immediately."

"What, even though it’s payable in Rome?"

"Certainly. It’ll only cost you a discount of five or six thousand francs."

The charity director recoiled.

"Good Lord!" he said. "I’d rather wait until tomorrow. What a suggestion!"

"I thought perhaps," Danglars said with supreme arrogance, "you might have a deficit to cover."

"Indeed," the director said stiffly.

"And if that were the case, a small sacrifice would be worthwhile."

"Thank you, no, sir."

"Then tomorrow it is."

"Yes, without fail."

"Oh, you’re mocking me! Come tomorrow at noon, and the bank will be notified."

"I’ll come myself."

"Even better, I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you."

They shook hands.

"By the way," Boville said, "aren’t you attending the funeral of poor Mademoiselle de Villefort? I passed it on my way here."

"No," the banker said. "I’ve looked rather foolish since that Benedetto affair, so I’m keeping a low profile."

"Nonsense, you’re wrong. How could you be blamed for that?"

"Listen, when you have an irreproachable reputation like mine, you become rather sensitive."

"Everyone sympathizes with you, sir. And especially with Mademoiselle Danglars!"

"Poor Eugénie!" Danglars sighed. "Did you know she’s entering religious life?"

"No!"

"It’s sadly true. The day after the scandal, she decided to leave Paris with a nun she knew. They’re searching for a very strict convent in Italy or Spain."

"How terrible!"

Boville left with this exclamation, expressing deep sympathy for the father. But he’d barely left before Danglars, with the explosive energy of a stage villain, exclaimed, "Fool!"

He tucked Monte Cristo’s receipt into a small pocket-book and added, "Yes, come at noon. I’ll be far away by then."

He double-locked his door, emptied all his drawers, collected about fifty thousand francs in banknotes, burned several papers, and left others conspicuously visible. Then he began writing a letter addressed to "Madame la Baronne Danglars."

"I’ll place it on her table myself tonight," he muttered.

He pulled a passport from his drawer.

"Good. It’s still valid for two more months."