the Count de Morcerf's antechamber, a footman, the same who at Rome
had brought the count's card to the two young men and announced his
visit, sprang into the vestibule, and when he arrived at the door the
illustrious traveler found his carnage awaiting him. It was a coupe of
Roller's building, and with horses and harness for which Drake had, to
the knowledge of all the men of fashion in Paris, refused on the previous day seven hundred guineas.
"Monsieur," said the count to Albert, "I do not ask you to accom pany me to my house, as I can only show you a habitation fitted up in a hurry, and I have, as you know, a reputation to keep up as regards not being taken by surprise. Give me, therefore, one more day before I invite you; I shall then be certain not to fail in my hospitality."
"If you ask me for a day, count, I know what to anticipate; it will not be a house I shall see, but a palace. You have decidedly some genie at your control."
"Ma foi! spread that idea," replied the Count of Monte-Cristo, put ting his foot on the velvet-lined steps of his splendid carriage, "and that will be worth something to me among the ladies."
As he spoke, he sprang into the vehicle, the door was closed, but not so rapidly that Monte-Cristo did not perceive the almost imperceptible movement which stirred the curtains of the apartment in which he had left Madame de Morcerf.
When Albert returned to his mother, he found her in the boudoir reclining in a large velvet arm-chair; the whole room so obscure that only the shining spangle, fastened here and there to the drapery, and the angles of the gilded frames of the pictures, gave a kind of light to the room. Albert could not see the countenance of the countess, which was lost in a thin veil she had put on her head, and which descended around her features like a cloud of vapor; but it seemed to him as though her voice had altered. He could distinguish amidst the perfumes of the roses and heliotropes in the flower-stands, the sharp and fragrant odor of volatile salts, and he remarked in one of the chased cups on the mantel-piece the countess's smelling-bottle, taken from its shagreen case, and exclaimed in a tone of uneasiness, as he entered:
"My dear mother, have you been unwell during my absence?"
"No, no, Albert! but you know these roses, tuberoses, and orange-flowers throw out at first, before one is used to them, such violent perfumes."
"Then, my dear mother," said Albert, putting his hand to the bell, "they must be taken into the antechamber. You are really unwell, and just now were so pale as you came into the room"
"Was I pale, Albert?"
