count's arrival, to relate many particulars respecting him to Madame
Danglars. It will be remembered that Monte-Cristo had made a lively
impression on the minds of the party at the breakfast given by Albert
de Morcerf; and Debray, unimpressionable as he was, still retained that impression, and thus the description given by Lucien to the baroness
bore its traces.
Excited by the stories related by De Morcerf, and the additional circumstances detailed by Debray, the curiosity of the baroness was raised to its highest pitch. The piano and the album were thus simply the common pretexts for concealing more important matters. A most gracious welcome and unusual smile were bestowed on M. Danglars; the count, received a formal though graceful courtesy, while Lucien exchanged with the count a sort of distant recognition, and with Danglars a free and easy nod.
"Baroness," said Danglars, "give me leave to present to you the Count of Monte-Cristo, who has been most warmly recommended to me by my correspondents at Rome. I need but mention one fact to make all the ladies in Paris court his notice, and that is, that he has come to take up his abode in our capital for one year, during which period he proposes to spend six millions of money! It sounds very much like an announcement of balls, fêtes, dinners, and supper parties, in all of which I trust M. le Comte will remember us, as we may depend upon it we shall him, in our little entertainments."
Spite of the gross flattery and coarseness of this address, Madame Danglars could not forbear gazing with considerable interest on a man capable of expending six millions in twelve months, and who had selected Paris for the scene of his princely extravagance.
"And when did you arrive here?" inquired she.
"Yesterday morning, madame."
"Coming, as usual, I presume, from the extreme end of the globe?"
"Nay, madame! This time I have merely proceeded from Cadiz hither."
"You have selected a most unfavorable moment for your first visit to our city. Paris is a horrible place in summer! Balls, parties, and fêtes are over; the Italian opera is in London; the French opera every where except in Paris. As for the Theatre FranQais, you know, of course, that it is nowhere. The only amusements left us are the indifferent races held in the Champ de Mars and Satoiy. Do you propose entering any horses at either of these races, M. le Comte?"
"Madame," replied Monte-Cristo, "I will do whatever is done at Paris, if I am lucky enough to find some friend to instruct in French habits."
"Are you fond of horses, M. le Comte?"
