"What did you say, sir?" asked the man.
"I was saying it was very interesting."
"What was?"
"All you were showing me. And you really understand none of these signals?"
"None at all."
"And have you never tried to understand them?"
"Never. Why should I?"
"But still, there are some signals only addressed to you."
"Certainly."
"And do you understand them?"
"They are always the same."
"And they mean"
"'Nothing new; You have an hour;' or 'To-morrow?'"
"This is simple enough," said the count; "but look! is not your correspondent putting itself in motion?"
"Ah, yes; thank you, sir."
"And what is it saying anything you understand?"
"Yes; it asks if I am ready."
"And you reply?"
"By the same sign, which, at the same time, tells my right-hand correspondent that I am ready, while it gives notice to my left-hand correspondent to prepare in his turn."
"It is very ingenious," said the count.
"You will see," said the man proudly; "in five minutes he will speak."
"I have, then, five minutes," said Monte-Cristo to himself; "it is more time than I require. My dear sir, will you allow me to ask you a question?"
"What is it, sir?"
"You are fond of gardening?"
"Passionately."
"And you would be pleased to have, instead of this terrace of twenty feet, an inclosure of two acres?"
"Sir, I should make a terrestrial paradise of it."
"You live badly on your thousand francs?"
"Badly enough; but yet I do live."
"Yes; but you have only a wretched garden!"
"True, the garden is not large."
"And then, such as it is, it is filled with dormice, who eat every thing."
"Ah! they are my scourges."
