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Updated: June 18, 2025
Bouche-de-Miel remained, continuing to smoke his cigarette, with his elbows on the counter where he had placed them after the health-drinking. The Captain's thoughts were of a conflicting nature. Everything pointed to the fact that the man before him was his father-in-law, but, unlike Mlle. d' Armilly, he saw nothing in him suggestive of the Baron Danglars of other days.
The players, who were seated at a table, with mugs of beer beside them, glanced up quickly from their game as he came in, and one of them, a heavy-framed, beetle-browed German, called out to him, speaking French: "How now, Bouche-de-Miel, what is the matter? You are out of breath and as pale as if you had been shadowed by an Agent de la Sureté!"
The binding accomplished, the robbers quitted their hold of the Count and turned in search of the plunder they had come for the millions of Monte-Cristo! Suddenly there was a loud cry. It came from Bouche-de-Miel. The others turned and looked at him, their pistols in their hands. He was staring at a white-robed woman, who stood like a ghost in the open doorway of the study.
But was it not probable that his wife and the Count had been mistaken? Was it not probable that they had been deceived by some fancied resemblance when excitement had possessed them to such a degree that it had deprived them of the full use of their mental faculties? At any rate he had come to the caboulot to experiment with Bouche-de-Miel and he would not shrink from cautiously applying the test.
But Bouche-de-Miel was not altogether satisfied. He sat uneasily in his chair, facing Morcerf and anxiously scanning his countenance. "What did you mean by calling me Baron Danglars and saying that you knew me?" he asked, in a low, somewhat tremulous voice.
Bouche-de-Miel grew absolutely livid with rage; he was entirely sobered now and all his evil instincts had full possession of him. "I will never forgive her or you!" he hissed. "Listen to me," said Albert, with comparative calmness. "I have come here to-night at the risk of my life to offer you money, the means of rehabilitation. Be advised.
Instead of replying directly to this question, the young man said, slowly and in a half-whisper: "I am Albert de Morcerf, the husband of your daughter Eugénie!" "What!" exclaimed Bouche-de-Miel. "Eugénie married and to you!" "Yes," said the Captain, "Fate has again brought us together after a long and painful separation."
I had position, too, and I may say without egotism that I was honored by the best people of Paris!" He paused and drained another glass of brandy. "What were you?" asked Mange. Albert waited breathlessly for the answer to this question. "What was I?" repeated Bouche-de-Miel. "You may laugh, but I was a banker!" Morcerf could not avoid giving a start.
He hurriedly scanned the other occupants of the room some were very drunk and stupid, others noisy and demonstrative, but all were too busy with their own concerns and pleasures to pay even the slightest attention to the little party at the table; Waldmann and Siebecker were asleep on opposite ends of a bench in a corner. Bouche-de-Miel had meanwhile relapsed into his misty reverie.
Waldmann appeared to be the leader of the coterie. The Italians wore blue blouses, but the distinctive garment of the Parisian workman could not conceal a certain brigandish air that was second nature to them. "Let's hear about your startling discovery, Bouche-de-Miel," said Waldmann. "Take a seat and tell us."
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