"But melancholy," interrupted Master Edward, snatching the feathers out of the tail of a splendid paroquet that was screaming on its gilded perch, in order to make a plume for his hat.
Madame de Villefort merely cried, "Silence, Edward!" She then added, "This young madcap is, however, very nearly right, and merely reëchoes what he has heard me say with pain a hundred times, for Mademoiselle de Villefort is, in spite of all we can do to rouse her, of a melancholy disposition and taciturn habit, which frequently injure the effect of her beauty. But what detains her? go, Edward, and see."
"Because they are looking for her where she is not to be found."
"And where are they looking for her?"
"With Grandpapa Noirtier."
"And do you think she is not there?"
"No, no, no, no, no, she is not there!" replied Edward, singing his words.
"And where is she, then? If you know, why don't you tell?"
"She is under the great chestnut-tree," replied the spoiled brat, as he gave, in spite of his mother's cries, live flies to the parrot, who appeared to relish such "small deer" exclusively.
Madame de Villefort stretched out her hand to ring, intending to direct her waiting-maid to the spot where she would find Valentine, when the young lady herself entered the apartment.
She appeared much dejected; and any person who considered her attentively might have observed the traces of recent tears in her eyes. Valentine, whom we have in the rapid march of our narrative presented to our readers without formally introducing her, was a tall and graceful girl of nineteen years of age, with bright chestnut hair, deep blue eyes, and that languishing air, so full of distinction, which characterized her mother. Her white and slender fingers, her pearly neck, her cheeks tinted with varying hues, gave her, at the first view, the aspect of one of those lovely Englishwomen who have been so poetically compared in their manner to a swan displaying itself.
She entered the apartment, and seeing near her step-mother the stranger of whom she had already heard so much, saluted him without any girlish awkwardness, or even lowering her eyes, and with an elegance that redoubled the count's attention. He rose to return the salutation.
"Mademoiselle de Villefort, my step-daughter," said Madame de Villefort to Monte-Cristo, leaning back on her sofa and motioning toward Valentine with her hand.
"And M. de Monte-Cristo, King of China, Emperor of Cochin-China," said the young imp, looking slyly toward his sister.
