The visitor either understood the abbé's meaning, or had no more questions to ask; he rose, and the abbe accompanied him to the door.
"You are a great almsgiver," said the visitor, "and although you are said to be rich, I will venture to offer you something for your poor people; will you accept my offering?"
"I thank you, sir; I am only jealous of one thing, namely, that the relief I give should be entirely from my own resources."
"However"
"My resolution, sir, is unchangeable; however, you have only to search for yourself, and you will find, alas! but too many objects upon whom to exercise your benevolence."
The abbé once more bowed as he opened the door, the stranger bowed and took his leave; and the carriage conducted him straight to the house of Villefort. An hour afterward the carriage was again ordered, and this time it went to the Rue Fontaine-Saint-George, and stopped at No. 5, where Lord Wilmore lived. The stranger had written to Lord Wilmore, requesting an interview, which the latter had fixed for ten o'clock. As the envoy of the prefect of police arrived ten minutes before ten, he was told that Lord Wilmore, who was precision and punctuality personified, was not yet come in, but that he would be sure to return as the clock struck.
The visitor was introduced into the drawing-room, which was like all other furnished drawing-rooms. A mantel-piece, with two modern Sevres vases, a time-piece representing Cupid with his bent bow, a look ing-glass with an engraving on each side, one representing Homer carrying his guide; the other, Belisarius begging, a grayish paper, red and black tapestry such was Lord Wilmore's drawing-room.
It was illuminated by lamps, with ground-glass shades, which gave only a feeble light, as if out of consideration for the envoy's weak sight. After ten minutes' expectation the clock struck ten; at the fifth stroke the door opened, and Lord Wilmore appeared. He was rather above the middle height, with thin reddish whiskers, light complexion and light hair, turning rather gray. He was dressed with all the English peculiarity, namely, in a blue coat, with gilt buttons and high collar, in the fashion of 1811, a white casimere waistcoat, and nankeen panta loons, three inches too short, but which were prevented by straps from slipping up to the knee. His first remark on entering was, "You know, sir, I do not speak French?"
"I know you do not like to converse in our language," replied the envoy.
"But you may use it," replied Lord Wilmore; "I understand it."
"And I," replied the visitor, changing his idiom, "know enough of English to keep up the conversation. Do not put yourself to the slightest inconvenience."
