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This, reckoning his loss, and what he had missed gaining, made the difference of a million to Danglars. "Good," said Monte Cristo to Morrel, who was at his house when the news arrived of the strange reverse of fortune of which Danglars had been the victim, "I have just made a discovery for twenty-five thousand francs, for which I would have paid a hundred thousand."
Morrel allowed his hand to fall into that which the count extended to him; then with an inexpressibly sorrowful inclination of the head he quitted the count and bent his steps to the east of the city.
"I make a hasty resolution?" said Morrel, shrugging his shoulders; "is there anything extraordinary in a journey?" "Maximilian," said the count, "let us both lay aside the mask we have assumed. You no more deceive me with that false calmness than I impose upon you with my frivolous solicitude.
"Ah, I have been running very fast, mademoiselle, but I must do M. Morrel the justice to say that he ran still faster." Noirtier directed their attention to a waiter, on which was placed a decanter containing lemonade and a glass. The decanter was nearly full, with the exception of a little, which had been already drunk by M. Noirtier.
The rumor of Edmond's arrest as a Bonapartist agent was not slow in circulating throughout the city. "Could you ever have credited such a thing, my dear Danglars?" asked M. Morrel, as, on his return to the port for the purpose of gleaning fresh tidings of Dantes, from M. de Villefort, the assistant procureur, he overtook his supercargo and Caderousse.
"But what redoubles my sorrow," continued the young girl, as if this feeling was to receive its immediate punishment, "is that the poor old lady, on her death-bed, requested that the marriage might take place as soon as possible; she also, thinking to protect me, was acting against me." "Hark!" said Morrel. They both listened; steps were distinctly heard in the corridor and on the stairs.
"The history to which M. Morrel alludes," continued Chateau-Renaud, "is an admirable one, which he will tell you some day when you are better acquainted with him; to-day let us fill our stomachs, and not our memories. What time do you breakfast, Albert?" "At half-past ten." "Precisely?" asked Debray, taking out his watch.
"But I assure you, mother, I have a strong intention of defending my person, and I never felt half so strong an inclination to live as I do now." "Merciful heavens!" "Besides, mother, why should you make up your mind that I am to be killed? Has Lamoriciere, that Ney of the South, been killed? Has Changarnier been killed? Has Bedeau been killed? Has Morrel, whom we know, been killed?
"Be careful, Valentine," said Morrel, hesitating to comply with the young girl's wishes; "I now see my error I acted like a madman in coming in here. Are you sure you are more reasonable?" "Yes," said Valentine; "and I have but one scruple, that of leaving my dear grandmother's remains, which I had undertaken to watch." "Valentine," said Morrel, "death is in itself sacred."
Morrel, evidently discomposed, came to meet Monte Cristo less with the intention of receiving him than to exclude his entry. "Ma foi," said Monte Cristo, rubbing his elbow, "it's all your servant's fault; your stairs are so polished, it is like walking on glass." "Are you hurt, sir?" coldly asked Morrel. "I believe not. But what are you about there? You were writing."
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