CHAPTER XLII
MONSIEUR BERTUCCIO
URING this time the count had arrived at his house; it had taken him six minutes to perform the distance; but these six minutes were sufficient to induce twenty young men, who knew the price of the equipage they had been unable to purchase themselves, to put their horses in a gallop in order to see the rich foreigner who could afford to give twenty thousand francs apiece for his horses.
The house Ali had chosen, and which was to serve as a town residence to Monte-Cristo, was situated on the right hand as you ascended the Champs Elysées. A thick clump of trees and shrubs rose in the center, and masked a portion of the front; around this shrubbery two alleys, like two arms, extended right and left, and formed a carriage drive from the iron gates to a double portico, on every step of which stood a porcelain vase, filled with flowers. This house, isolated from the rest, had, besides the main entrance, another in the Rue Ponthieu. Even before the coachman had hailed the concierge, the massy gates rolled on their hinges: they had seen the count coming, and at Paris, as everywhere else, he was served with the rapidity of lightning. The coachman entered, and describing the half-circle without slackening his speed, the gates were closed ere the wheels had ceased to sound on the gravel. The carriage stopped at the left side of the portico; two men presented themselves at the carriage-window: the one was Ali, who, smiling with an expression of the most sincere joy, seemed amply repaid by a mere look from Monte-Cristo. The other bowed respectfully, and offered his arm to assist the count in descending.
"Thanks, M. Bertuccio," said the count, springing lightly up the three steps of the portico; "and the notary?"
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