CHAPTER LXVIII
A SUMMER BALL
HE same day, during the interview of Madame Danglars with the "procureur du roi", a traveling-carriage entered the Rue du Helder, passed through the gate-way of No. 27, and stopped in the yard. In a moment the door was opened, and
Madame de Morcerf alighted, leaning on her son's arm. Albert soon left her, ordered his horses, and having arranged his toilet, drove to the Champs Elysées, to the house of Monte-Cristo.
The count received him with his habitual smile. It was a strange thing that no one ever appeared to advance a step in that man's favor. Those who would, as it were, force a passage to his heart, found an impassable barrier. Morcerf, who ran toward him with open arms, was chilled as he drew near, in spite of the friendly smile, and simply held out his hand. Monte-Cristo shook it coldly, according to his invariable practice.
"Here I am, dear count."
"Welcome home again."
"I arrived an hour since."
"From Dieppe?"
"No, from Tréport. And I am directly come to see you."
"That is extremely kind of you," said Monte-Cristo, with a tone of perfect indifference.
"And what is the news?"
"You should not ask a stranger for news."
"I know it, but in asking for news, I mean, have you done anything for me?"
"Had you commissioned me?" said Monte-Cristo, playing with his anxiety.
"Come, come," said Albert, "do not assume so much indifference. It
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