the baroness did not dream the whole of this entrance of Don Carlos. The papers said something about it, did they not?"
"Then you believe the newspapers?"
"If not the least in the world; only I fancied that the honest Messayer was an exception to the rule, and that it only announced telegraphic dispatches."
"Well! this is what puzzles me," replied Danglars; "the news of the return of Don Carlos was brought by telegraph."
"So that," said Monte-Cristo, "you have lost nearly one million seven hundred thousand francs this month."
"Not nearly, indeed; that is exactly my loss."
"Diable!" said Monte-Cristo, compassionately, "it is a hard blow for a third-rate fortune."
"Third-rate," said Danglars, rather humbled, "what do you mean by that .'
"Certainly," continued Monte-Cristo, "I make three classes—first-rate, second-rate, and third-rate fortunes. I call those first-rate which are composed of treasures one possesses under one's hand, such as mines, lands, and funded property, in such states as France, Austria, and England, provided these treasures and property form a total of about a hundred millions; I call those second-rate fortunes investments in manufacturing enterprises, joint-stock companies, viceroyalties, and principalities, not drawing more than one million five hundred thousand francs, the whole forming a capital of about fifty millions; finally, I call those third-rate fortunes composed of a fluctuating capital, dependent upon the will of others, or upon chances which a bankruptcy involves or a false telegram shakes: such as banks, speculations of the day—in fact, all operations under the influence of greater or less mischances, the whole bringing in a real or fictitious capital of about fifteen millions. I think this is about your position, is it not?"
"Confound it! yes!" replied Danglars.
"The result, then, of six more such months as this would be to reduce the third-rate house to despair."
"Oh!" said Danglars, becoming very pale, "how you are running on!"
"Let us imagine seven such months," continued Monte-Cristo, in the same tone. "Tell me, have you ever thought that seven times one million seven hundred thousand francs make nearly twelve millions? No, you have not; well, you are right, for if you indulged in such reflections, you would never risk your principal, which is to the speculator what the skin is to civilized man. We have our clothes, some more splendid than others—this is our credit; but when a man dies he has only his skin. In the same way, on retiring from business, you have
