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You went to sleep full of thoughts of vengeance; they weighed heavily upon your stomach; you had the nightmare that's all. Come, calm yourself, and reckon them up M. and Madame de Villefort, two; M. and Madame Danglars, four; M. de Chateau-Renaud, M. Debray, M. Morrel, seven; Major Bartolomeo Cavalcanti, eight." "Eight!" repeated Bertuccio. "Stop!
"But the rumor was," said Beauchamp, "and indeed I was so assured by M. de Boville himself, Receiver-General of the Hospitals, at the time, that the Countess gave all the Count's fortune to the hospitals, and that he himself registered the deed of gift." "Oh! that was only some twelve or thirteen hundred thousand francs," said Debray.
"Herself." "And who is herself, Lucien?" asked Château-Renaud. "Have you forgotten the Countess de Morcerf?" "The Countess de Morcerf? the wife of the general who was convicted by the peers of felony, treason and outrage in the matter of Ali Tebelen, Pacha of Yanina?" said Beauchamp. "And who blew his brains out in despair?" added the Count. "The same," said Debray.
Food for the laborer!" and other cries of equally fearful significance were audible. "Do you hear that, Beauchamp?" said Debray, quietly. "Undoubtedly," was the equally quiet reply. "Those laborers have deserted the daily toil which would give them the bread they so fiercely demand, in order to discuss their imaginary misery, and denounce those who are richer than themselves."
"Really," said Albert, "I do not know; when I invited him three months ago, he was then at Rome, but since that time who knows where he may have gone?" "And you think him capable of being exact?" demanded Debray. "I think him capable of everything." "Well, with the five minutes' grace, we have only ten left." "I will profit by them to tell you something about my guest."
"A friend of the people!" cried Debray, bitterly, as his coupé, containing himself and companions, drove off to Véry's. "From such friends let the people be saved, and they may save themselves from their foes." "And the play, what think you of that?" cried Beauchamp.
Debray, instead of answering, allowed her to remain in an attitude of nervous inquiry. "Well?" she said at length, "do you not answer me?" "I have but one question to ask you, what do you intend to do?" "I was going to ask you," replied the baroness with a beating heart. "Ah, then, you wish to ask advice of me?" "Yes; I do wish to ask your advice," said Madame Danglars with anxious expectation.
"For shame!" exclaimed the baroness. "Oh, let us have no gestures, no screams, no modern drama, or you will oblige me to tell you that I see Debray leave here, pocketing the whole of the 500,000 livres you have handed over to him this year, while he smiles to himself, saying that he has found what the most skilful players have never discovered that is, a roulette where he wins without playing, and is no loser when he loses."
"Will you come into the garden?" said Debray, advancing towards the back staircase. "No, no," she answered, "I would rather remain here." "Are you really frightened, madame?" said Monte Cristo. "Oh, no, sir," said Madame Danglars; "but you suppose scenes in a manner which gives them the appearance of reality." "Ah, yes," said Monte Cristo smiling; "it is all a matter of imagination.
"With what ideas does that letter inspire you?" "Oh, it is simple enough, madame; it inspires me with the idea that M. Danglars has left suspiciously." "Certainly; but is this all you have to say to me?" "I do not understand you," said Debray with freezing coldness. "He is gone! Gone, never to return!" "Oh, madame, do not think that!" "I tell you he will never return.