English
Letusleavethebankerdrivinghishorsesattheirfullestspeed,andfollowMadameDanglarsinhermorningexcursion.
Wehavesaidthatathalf–pasttwelveo’clockMadameDanglarshadorderedherhorses,andhadlefthomeinthecarriage.
ShedirectedhercoursetowardstheFaubourgSaintGermain,wentdowntheRueMazarine,andstoppedatthePassageduPont–Neuf.
Shedescended,andwentthroughthepassage.
Shewasveryplainlydressed,aswouldbethecasewithawomanoftastewalkinginthemorning.
AttheRueGuenegaudshecalledacab,anddirectedthedrivertogototheRuedeHarlay.
Assoonasshewasseatedinthevehicle,shedrewfromherpocketaverythickblackveil,whichshetiedontoherstrawbonnet.
Shethenreplacedthebonnet,andsawwithpleasure,inalittlepocket–mirror,thatherwhitecomplexionandbrillianteyeswerealonevisible.
ThecabcrossedthePont–NeufandenteredtheRuedeHarlaybythePlaceDauphine;thedriverwaspaidasthedooropened,andsteppinglightlyupthestairsMadameDanglarssoonreachedtheSalledesPas–Perdus.
Therewasagreatdealgoingonthatmorning,andmanybusiness–likepersonsatthePalais;business–likepersonspayverylittleattentiontowomen,andMadameDanglarscrossedthehallwithoutexcitinganymoreattentionthananyotherwomancallinguponherlawyer.
TherewasagreatpressofpeopleinM.deVillefort’sante–chamber,butMadameDanglarshadnooccasioneventopronouncehername.
Theinstantsheappearedthedoor–keeperrose,cametoher,andaskedherwhethershewasnotthepersonwithwhomtheprocureurhadmadeanappointment;andonheraffirmativeanswerbeinggiven,heconductedherbyaprivatepassagetoM.deVillefort’soffice.
Themagistratewasseatedinanarm–chair,writing,withhisbacktowardsthedoor;hedidnotmoveashehearditopen,andthedoor–keeperpronouncethewords,“Walkin,madame,”andthenrecloseit;butnosoonerhadtheman’sfootstepsceased,thanhestartedup,drewthebolts,closedthecurtains,andexaminedeverycorneroftheroom.
Then,whenhehadassuredhimselfthathecouldneitherbeseennorheard,andwasconsequentlyrelievedofdoubts,hesaid,—”Thanks,madame,—thanksforyourpunctuality;”andheofferedachairtoMadameDanglars,whichsheaccepted,forherheartbeatsoviolentlythatshefeltnearlysuffocated.
“Itisalongtime,madame,”saidtheprocureur,describingahalf–circlewithhischair,soastoplacehimselfexactlyoppositetoMadameDanglars,—”itisalongtimesinceIhadthepleasureofspeakingalonewithyou,andIregretthatwehaveonlynowmettoenteruponapainfulconversation.”
“Nevertheless,sir,youseeIhaveansweredyourfirstappeal,althoughcertainlytheconversationmustbemuchmorepainfulformethanforyou.”Villefortsmiledbitterly.
“Itistrue,then,”hesaid,ratherutteringhisthoughtsaloudthanaddressinghiscompanion,—”itistrue,then,thatallouractionsleavetheirtraces—somesad,othersbright—onourpaths;itistruethateverystepinourlivesislikethecourseofaninsectonthesands;—itleavesitstrack!
Alas,tomanythepathistracedbytears.”
“Sir,”saidMadameDanglars,“youcanfeelformyemotion,canyounot?Spareme,then,Ibeseechyou.
WhenIlookatthisroom,—whencesomanyguiltycreatureshavedeparted,tremblingandashamed,whenIlookatthatchairbeforewhichInowsittremblingandashamed,—oh,itrequiresallmyreasontoconvincemethatIamnotaveryguiltywomanandyouamenacingjudge.”Villefortdroppedhisheadandsighed.
“AndI,”hesaid,“Ifeelthatmyplaceisnotinthejudge’sseat,butontheprisoner’sstool.”
“You?”saidMadameDanglars.
“Yes,I.”
“Ithink,sir,youexaggerateyoursituation,”saidMadameDanglars,whosebeautifuleyessparkledforamoment.
“Thepathsofwhichyouwerejustspeakinghavebeentracedbyallyoungmenofardentimaginations.
Besidesthepleasure,thereisalwaysremorsefromtheindulgenceofourpassions,and,afterall,whathaveyoumentofearfromallthis?
theworldexcuses,andnotorietyennoblesyou.”
“Madame,”repliedVillefort,“youknowthatIamnohypocrite,or,atleast,thatIneverdeceivewithoutareason.
Ifmybrowbesevere,itisbecausemanymisfortuneshavecloudedit;ifmyheartbepetrified,itisthatitmightsustaintheblowsithasreceived.
Iwasnotsoinmyyouth,Iwasnotsoonthenightofthebetrothal,whenwewereallseatedaroundatableintheRueduCoursatMarseilles.
Butsincetheneverythinghaschangedinandaboutme;Iamaccustomedtobravedifficulties,and,intheconflicttocrushthosewho,bytheirownfreewill,orbychance,voluntarilyorinvoluntarily,interferewithmeinmycareer.
Itisgenerallythecasethatwhatwemostardentlydesireisasardentlywithheldfromusbythosewhowishtoobtainit,orfromwhomweattempttosnatchit.
Thus,thegreaternumberofaman’serrorscomebeforehimdisguisedunderthespeciousformofnecessity;then,aftererrorhasbeencommittedinamomentofexcitement,ofdelirium,oroffear,weseethatwemighthaveavoidedandescapedit.
Themeanswemighthaveused,whichweinourblindnesscouldnotsee,thenseemsimpleandeasy,andwesay,‘WhydidInotdothis,insteadofthat?’
Women,onthecontrary,arerarelytormentedwithremorse;forthedecisiondoesnotcomefromyou,—yourmisfortunesaregenerallyimposeduponyou,andyourfaultstheresultsofothers’crimes.”
“Inanycase,sir,youwillallow,”repliedMadameDanglars,“that,evenifthefaultwerealonemine,Ilastnightreceivedaseverepunishmentforit.”
“Poorthing,”saidVillefort,pressingherhand,“itwastoosevereforyourstrength,foryouweretwiceoverwhelmed,andyet”—
“Well?”
“Well,Imusttellyou.Collectallyourcourage,foryouhavenotyetheardall.”
“Ah,”exclaimedMadameDanglars,alarmed,“whatistheremoretohear?”
“Youonlylookbacktothepast,anditis,indeed,badenough.
Well,picturetoyourselfafuturemoregloomystill—certainlyfrightful,perhapssanguinary.”
ThebaronessknewhowcalmVillefortnaturallywas,andhispresentexcitementfrightenedhersomuchthatsheopenedhermouthtoscream,butthesounddiedinherthroat.
“Howhasthisterriblepastbeenrecalled?”
criedVillefort;“howisitthatithasescapedfromthedepthsofthetombandtherecessesofourhearts,whereitwasburied,tovisitusnow,likeaphantom,whiteningourcheeksandflushingourbrowswithshame?”
“Alas,”saidHermine,“doubtlessitischance.”
“Chance?”repliedVillefort;“No,no,madame,thereisnosuchthingaschance.”
“Oh,yes;hasnotafatalchancerevealedallthis?
WasitnotbychancetheCountofMonteCristoboughtthathouse?
Wasitnotbychancehecausedtheearthtobedugup?
Isitnotbychancethattheunfortunatechildwasdisinterredunderthetrees?
—thatpoorinnocentoffspringofmine,whichIneverevenkissed,butforwhomIweptmany,manytears.
Ah,myheartclungtothecountwhenhementionedthedearspoilfoundbeneaththeflowers.”
“Well,no,madame,—thisistheterriblenewsIhavetotellyou,”saidVillefortinahollowvoice—”no,nothingwasfoundbeneaththeflowers;therewasnochilddisinterred—no.
Youmustnotweep,no,youmustnotgroan,youmusttremble!”
“Whatcanyoumean?”askedMadameDanglars,shuddering.
“ImeanthatM.deMonteCristo,diggingunderneaththesetrees,foundneitherskeletonnorchest,becauseneitherofthemwasthere!”
“Neitherofthemthere?”repeatedMadameDanglars,herstaring,wide–openeyesexpressingheralarm.
“Neitherofthemthere!”sheagainsaid,asthoughstrivingtoimpressherselfwiththemeaningofthewordswhichescapedher.
“No,”saidVillefort,buryinghisfaceinhishands,“no,ahundredtimesno!”
“Thenyoudidnotburythepoorchildthere,sir?Whydidyoudeceiveme?Wheredidyouplaceit?tellme—where?”
“There!Butlistentome—listen—andyouwillpitymewhohasfortwentyyearsalonebornetheheavyburdenofgriefIamabouttoreveal,withoutcastingtheleastportionuponyou.”
“Oh,youfrightenme!Butspeak;Iwilllisten.”
“Yourecollectthatsadnight,whenyouwerehalf–expiringonthatbedinthereddamaskroom,whileI,scarcelylessagitatedthanyou,awaitedyourdelivery.
Thechildwasborn,wasgiventome—motionless,breathless,voiceless;wethoughtitdead.”
MadameDanglarsmovedrapidly,asthoughshewouldspringfromherchair,butVillefortstopped,andclaspedhishandsasiftoimploreherattention.
“Wethoughtitdead,”herepeated;“Iplaceditinthechest,whichwastotaketheplaceofacoffin;Idescendedtothegarden,Idugahole,andthenflungitdowninhaste.
ScarcelyhadIcovereditwithearth,whenthearmoftheCorsicanwasstretchedtowardsme;Isawashadowrise,and,atthesametime,aflashoflight.
Ifeltpain;Iwishedtocryout,butanicyshiverranthroughmyveinsandstifledmyvoice;Ifelllifeless,andfanciedmyselfkilled.
NevershallIforgetyoursublimecourage,when,havingreturnedtoconsciousness,Idraggedmyselftothefootofthestairs,andyou,almostdyingyourself,cametomeetme.
Wewereobligedtokeepsilentuponthedreadfulcatastrophe.
Youhadthefortitudetoregainthehouse,assistedbyyournurse.Aduelwasthepretextformywound.
Thoughwescarcelyexpectedit,oursecretremainedinourownkeepingalone.
IwastakentoVersailles;forthreemonthsIstruggledwithdeath;atlast,asIseemedtoclingtolife,IwasorderedtotheSouth.
FourmencarriedmefromParistoChalons,walkingsixleaguesaday;MadamedeVillefortfollowedthelitterinhercarriage.
AtChalonsIwasputupontheSaone,thenceIpassedontotheRhone,whenceIdescended,merelywiththecurrent,toArles;atArlesIwasagainplacedonmylitter,andcontinuedmyjourneytoMarseilles.Myrecoverylastedsixmonths.
Ineverheardyoumentioned,andIdidnotdareinquireforyou.
WhenIreturnedtoParis,Ilearnedthatyou,thewidowofM.deNargonne,hadmarriedM.Danglars.
“Whatwasthesubjectofmythoughtsfromthetimeconsciousnessreturnedtome?
Alwaysthesame—alwaysthechild’scorpse,comingeverynightinmydreams,risingfromtheearth,andhoveringoverthegravewithmenacinglookandgesture.
IinquiredimmediatelyonmyreturntoParis;thehousehadnotbeeninhabitedsinceweleftit,butithadjustbeenletfornineyears.Ifoundthetenant.
IpretendedthatIdislikedtheideathatahousebelongingtomywife’sfatherandmothershouldpassintothehandsofstrangers.
Iofferedtopaythemforcancellingthelease;theydemanded6,000francs.
Iwouldhavegiven10,000—Iwouldhavegiven20,000.
Ihadthemoneywithme;Imadethetenantsignthedeedofresilition,andwhenIhadobtainedwhatIsomuchwanted,IgallopedtoAuteuil.
“NoonehadenteredthehousesinceIhadleftit.
Itwasfiveo’clockintheafternoon;Iascendedintotheredroom,andwaitedfornight.
Thereallthethoughtswhichhaddisturbedmeduringmyyearofconstantagonycamebackwithdoubleforce.
TheCorsican,whohaddeclaredthevendettaagainstme,whohadfollowedmefromNimestoParis,whohadhidhimselfinthegarden,whohadstruckme,hadseenmedigthegrave,hadseenmeinterthechild,—hemightbecomeacquaintedwithyourperson,—nay,hemighteventhenhaveknownit.
Wouldhenotonedaymakeyoupayforkeepingthisterriblesecret?
WoulditnotbeasweetrevengeforhimwhenhefoundthatIhadnotdiedfromtheblowofhisdagger?
Itwasthereforenecessary,beforeeverythingelse,andatallrisks,thatIshouldcausealltracesofthepasttodisappear—thatIshoulddestroyeverymaterialvestige;toomuchrealitywouldalwaysremaininmyrecollection.
ItwasforthisIhadannulledthelease—itwasforthisIhadcome—itwasforthisIwaswaiting.
Nightarrived;Iallowedittobecomequitedark.
Iwaswithoutalightinthatroom;whenthewindshookallthedoors,behindwhichIcontinuallyexpectedtoseesomespyconcealed,Itrembled.
Iseemedeverywheretohearyourmoansbehindmeinthebed,andIdarednotturnaround.
MyheartbeatsoviolentlythatIfearedmywoundwouldopen.
Atlength,onebyone,allthenoisesintheneighborhoodceased.
IunderstoodthatIhadnothingtofear,thatIshouldneitherbeseennorheard,soIdecidedupondescendingtothegarden.
“Listen,Hermine;Iconsidermyselfasbraveasmostmen,butwhenIdrewfrommybreastthelittlekeyofthestaircase,whichIhadfoundinmycoat—thatlittlekeywebothusedtocherishsomuch,whichyouwishedtohavefastenedtoagoldenring—whenIopenedthedoor,andsawthepalemoonsheddingalongstreamofwhitelightonthespiralstaircaselikeaspectre,Ileanedagainstthewall,andnearlyshrieked.
Iseemedtobegoingmad.AtlastImasteredmyagitation.
Idescendedthestaircasestepbystep;theonlythingIcouldnotconquerwasastrangetremblinginmyknees.
Igraspedtherailings;ifIhadrelaxedmyholdforamoment,Ishouldhavefallen.Ireachedthelowerdoor.
Outsidethisdooraspadewasplacedagainstthewall;Itookit,andadvancedtowardsthethicket.
Ihadprovidedmyselfwithadarklantern.
InthemiddleofthelawnIstoppedtolightit,thenIcontinuedmypath.
“ItwastheendofNovember,alltheverdureofthegardenhaddisappeared,thetreeswerenothingmorethanskeletonswiththeirlongbonyarms,andthedeadleavessoundedonthegravelundermyfeet.
MyterrorovercamemetosuchadegreeasIapproachedthethicket,thatItookapistolfrommypocketandarmedmyself.
IfanciedcontinuallythatIsawthefigureoftheCorsicanbetweenthebranches.
Iexaminedthethicketwithmydarklantern;itwasempty.
Ilookedcarefullyaround;Iwasindeedalone,—nonoisedisturbedthesilencebuttheowl,whosepiercingcryseemedtobecallingupthephantomsofthenight.
ItiedmylanterntoaforkedbranchIhadnoticedayearbeforeattheprecisespotwhereIstoppedtodigthehole.
“Thegrasshadgrownverythicklythereduringthesummer,andwhenautumnarrivednoonehadbeentheretomowit.
Stilloneplacewherethegrasswasthinattractedmyattention;itevidentlywasthereIhadturneduptheground.Iwenttowork.
Thehour,then,forwhichIhadbeenwaitingduringthelastyearhadatlengtharrived.
HowIworked,howIhoped,howIstruckeverypieceofturf,thinkingtofindsomeresistancetomyspade!
Butno,Ifoundnothing,thoughIhadmadeaholetwiceaslargeasthefirst.
IthoughtIhadbeendeceived—hadmistakenthespot.
Iturnedaround,Ilookedatthetrees,Itriedtorecallthedetailswhichhadstruckmeatthetime.
Acold,sharpwindwhistledthroughtheleaflessbranches,andyetthedropsfellfrommyforehead.
IrecollectedthatIwasstabbedjustasIwastramplingthegroundtofillupthehole;whiledoingsoIhadleanedagainstalaburnum;behindmewasanartificialrockery,intendedtoserveasaresting–placeforpersonswalkinginthegarden;infalling,myhand,relaxingitsholdofthelaburnum,feltthecoldnessofthestone.
OnmyrightIsawthetree,behindmetherock.
Istoodinthesameattitude,andthrewmyselfdown.
Irose,andagainbegandiggingandenlargingthehole;stillIfoundnothing,nothing—thechestwasnolongerthere!”
“Thechestnolongerthere?”murmuredMadameDanglars,chokingwithfear.
“ThinknotIcontentedmyselfwiththisoneeffort,”continuedVillefort.“No;Isearchedthewholethicket.
Ithoughttheassassin,havingdiscoveredthechest,andsupposingittobeatreasure,hadintendedcarryingitoff,but,perceivinghiserror,hadduganotherhole,anddepositeditthere;butIcouldfindnothing.
Thentheideastruckmethathehadnottakentheseprecautions,andhadsimplythrownitinacorner.
InthelastcaseImustwaitfordaylighttorenewmysearch.Iremainedtheroomandwaited.”
“Oh,heavens!”
WhendaylightdawnedIwentdownagain.Myfirstvisitwastothethicket.
Ihopedtofindsometraceswhichhadescapedmeinthedarkness.
Ihadturneduptheearthoverasurfaceofmorethantwentyfeetsquare,andadepthoftwofeet.
Alaborerwouldnothavedoneinadaywhatoccupiedmeanhour.
ButIcouldfindnothing—absolutelynothing.ThenIrenewedthesearch.
Supposingithadbeenthrownaside,itwouldprobablybeonthepathwhichledtothelittlegate;butthisexaminationwasasuselessasthefirst,andwithaburstingheartIreturnedtothethicket,whichnowcontainednohopeforme.”
“Oh,”criedMadameDanglars,“itwasenoughtodriveyoumad!”
“Ihopedforamomentthatitmight,”saidVillefort;“butthathappinesswasdeniedme.However,recoveringmystrengthandmyideas,‘Why,’saidI,‘shouldthatmanhavecarriedawaythecorpse?’”
“Butyousaid,”repliedMadameDanglars,“hewouldrequireitasaproof.”
“Ah,no,madame,thatcouldnotbe.Deadbodiesarenotkeptayear;theyareshowntoamagistrate,andtheevidenceistaken.Now,nothingofthekindhashappened.”
“Whatthen?”askedHermine,tremblingviolently.
“Somethingmoreterrible,morefatal,morealarmingforus—thechildwas,perhaps,alive,andtheassassinmayhavesavedit!”
MadameDanglarsutteredapiercingcry,and,seizingVillefort’shands,exclaimed,“Mychildwasalive?”saidshe;“youburiedmychildalive?
Youwerenotcertainmychildwasdead,andyouburiedit?Ah”—
MadameDanglarshadrisen,andstoodbeforetheprocureur,whosehandsshewrunginherfeeblegrasp.
“Iknownot;Imerelysupposeso,asImightsupposeanythingelse,”repliedVillefortwithalooksofixed,itindicatedthathispowerfulmindwasonthevergeofdespairandmadness.“Ah,mychild,mypoorchild!”
criedthebaroness,fallingonherchair,andstiflinghersobsinherhandkerchief.
Villefort,becomingsomewhatreassured,perceivedthattoavertthematernalstormgatheringoverhishead,hemustinspireMadameDanglarswiththeterrorhefelt.
“Youunderstand,then,thatifitwereso,”saidhe,risinginhisturn,andapproachingthebaroness,tospeaktoherinalowertone,“wearelost.
Thischildlives,andsomeoneknowsitlives—someoneisinpossessionofoursecret;andsinceMonteCristospeaksbeforeusofachilddisinterred,whenthatchildcouldnotbefound,itishewhoisinpossessionofoursecret.”
“JustGod,avengingGod!”murmuredMadameDanglars.
Villefort’sonlyanswerwasastifledgroan.
“Butthechild—thechild,sir?”repeatedtheagitatedmother.
“HowIhavesearchedforhim,”repliedVillefort,wringinghishands;“howIhavecalledhiminmylongsleeplessnights;howIhavelongedforroyalwealthtopurchaseamillionofsecretsfromamillionofmen,andtofindmineamongthem!
Atlast,oneday,whenforthehundredthtimeItookupmyspade,IaskedmyselfagainandagainwhattheCorsicancouldhavedonewiththechild.
Achildencumbersafugitive;perhaps,onperceivingitwasstillalive,hehadthrownitintotheriver.”
“Impossible!”criedMadameDanglars:“amanmaymurderanotheroutofrevenge,buthewouldnotdeliberatelydrownachild.”
“Perhaps,”continuedVillefort,“hehadputitinthefoundlinghospital.”
“Oh,yes,yes,”criedthebaroness;“mychildisthere!”
“Irantothehospital,andlearnedthatthesamenight—thenightofthe20thofSeptember—achildhadbeenbroughtthere,wrappedinpartofafinelinennapkin,purposelytorninhalf.
Thisportionofthenapkinwasmarkedwithhalfabaron’scrown,andtheletterH.”
“Truly,truly,”saidMadameDanglars,“allmylinenismarkedthus;MonsieurdeNargonnewasabaronet,andmynameisHermine.ThankGod,mychildwasnotthendead!”
“No,itwasnotdead.”
“Andyoucantellmesowithoutfearingtomakemedieofjoy?Whereisthechild?”Villefortshruggedhisshoulders.“DoIknow?”
saidhe;“anddoyoubelievethatifIknewIwouldrelatetoyouallitstrialsandallitsadventuresaswouldadramatistoranovelwriter?Alas,no,Iknownot.
Awoman,aboutsixmonthsafter,cametoclaimitwiththeotherhalfofthenapkin.
Thiswomangavealltherequisiteparticulars,anditwasintrustedtoher.”
“Butyoushouldhaveinquiredforthewoman;youshouldhavetracedher.”
“AndwhatdoyouthinkIdid?Ifeignedacriminalprocess,andemployedallthemostacutebloodhoundsandskilfulagentsinsearchofher.TheytracedhertoChalons,andtheretheylosther.”
“Theylosther?”
“Yes,forever.”MadameDanglarshadlistenedtothisrecitalwithasigh,atear,orashriekforeverydetail.“Andthisisall?”saidshe;“andyoustoppedthere?”
“Oh,no,”saidVillefort;“Ineverceasedtosearchandtoinquire.
However,thelasttwoorthreeyearsIhadallowedmyselfsomerespite.
ButnowIwillbeginwithmoreperseveranceandfurythanever,sincefearurgesme,notmyconscience.”
“But,”repliedMadameDanglars,“theCountofMonteCristocanknownothing,orhewouldnotseekoursocietyashedoes.”
“Oh,thewickednessofmanisverygreat,”saidVillefort,“sinceitsurpassesthegoodnessofGod.Didyouobservethatman’seyeswhilehewasspeakingtous?”
“No.”
“Buthaveyoueverwatchedhimcarefully?”
“Doubtlessheiscapricious,butthatisall;onethingalonestruckme,—ofalltheexquisitethingsheplacedbeforeus,hetouchednothing.Imighthavesuspectedhewaspoisoningus.”
“Andyouseeyouwouldhavebeendeceived.”
“Yes,doubtless.”
“Butbelieveme,thatmanhasotherprojects.
ForthatreasonIwishedtoseeyou,tospeaktoyou,towarnyouagainsteveryone,butespeciallyagainsthim.
Tellme,”criedVillefort,fixinghiseyesmoresteadfastlyonherthanhehadeverdonebefore,“didyoueverrevealtoanyoneourconnection?”
“Never,toanyone.”
“Youunderstandme,”repliedVillefort,affectionately;“whenIsayanyone,—pardonmyurgency,—toanyonelivingImean?”
“Yes,yes,Iunderstandverywell,”ejaculatedthebaroness;“never,Isweartoyou.”
“Wereyoueverinthehabitofwritingintheeveningwhathadtranspiredinthemorning?Doyoukeepajournal?”
“No,mylifehasbeenpassedinfrivolity;Iwishtoforgetitmyself.”
“Doyoutalkinyoursleep?”
“Isleepsoundly,likeachild;doyounotremember?”Thecolormountedtothebaroness’sface,andVillefortturnedawfullypale.
“Itistrue,”saidhe,insolowatonethathecouldhardlybeheard.
“Well?”saidthebaroness.
“Well,IunderstandwhatInowhavetodo,”repliedVillefort.
“InlessthanoneweekfromthistimeIwillascertainwhothisM.deMonteCristois,whencehecomes,wherehegoes,andwhyhespeaksinourpresenceofchildrenthathavebeendisinterredinagarden.”
Villefortpronouncedthesewordswithanaccentwhichwouldhavemadethecountshudderhadheheardhim.
Thenhepressedthehandthebaronessreluctantlygavehim,andledherrespectfullybacktothedoor.
MadameDanglarsreturnedinanothercabtothepassage,ontheothersideofwhichshefoundhercarriage,andhercoachmansleepingpeacefullyonhisboxwhilewaitingforher.
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