The baroness shrugged up her shoulders with an air of ineffable contempt, while her husband, affecting not to observe it, turned toward Monte-Cnsto, and said:
"Upon my word, M. le Comte, I am quite sorry I was not sooner aware ot your establishing yourself in Paris."
"And wherefore?" asked the count.
"Because I should have liked to have made you the offer of these horses. I have almost given them away, as it is; but, as I before said, I was anxious to get rid of them upon any terms. They were only fit for a young man."
"I am much obliged by your kind intentions toward me," said Monte-Cristo; "but this morning I purchased a pair, and I do not think they were dear. There they are. Come, M. Debray, you are a good judge."
As Debray walked toward the window, Danglars approached his wife.
"Just fancy!" said he, in a low tone, "a most enormous price was offered me this morning for them. Some fool, bent upon ruining him self as fast as he can, actually sent his steward to me; and the fact is, I have gained sixteen thousand francs by the sale of them. Come, don't look so angry, and you shall have four thousand francs of the money to do what you like with, and Eugenie shall have two thousand." Madame Danglars surveyed her husband with a look of withering contempt.
"What do I see?" suddenly exclaimed Debray. "Where?" asked the baroness.
"I cannot be mistaken; there are your horses! Your own horses harnessed to the count's carriage!"
"My dappled grays?" demanded the baroness, springing to the window.
"'Tis indeed they!" said she.
Danglars looked absolutely stultified.
"How very singular!" cried Monte-Cristo, with well-feigned astonishment.
Madame Danglars whispered a few words in the ear of Debray, who approached Monte-Cristo, saying:
"The baroness wishes to know what you paid her husband for the horses."
"I scarcely know," replied the count; "it was a little surprise prepared for me by my steward. I think it has cost me about thirty thousand francs."
Debray conveyed the count's reply to the baroness. Poor Danglars looked so crestfallen and discomfited, that Monte-Cristo assumed a pitying air toward him.
