"He seems to have a mania for diamonds," said Morcerf, smiling; "and I verily believe that, like Potemkin, he keeps his pockets filled, for the sake of strewing them along the road, as Tom Thumb did his flint stones."
"Perhaps he has discovered some mine," said Madame Danglars. "I suppose you know he has an order for unlimited credit on the baron?"
"I was not aware of it," replied Albert, "but I can readily believe it."
"And, further, that he stated to M. Danglars his intention of staying a year in Paris, during which time he proposed to spend six millions."
"He must be the Shah of Persia, traveling incog.
"Have you remarked the extreme beauty of that young lady, M. Lucien?" inquired Eugenie.
"I really never met with any woman so ready to do justice to another as yourself," continued Lucien, raising his lorgnette to his eye. "A most lovely creature!" cried he.
"Who is this young person, M. Morcerf," inquired Eugenie; "does anybody know?"
"Allow me to state," said Albert, replying to this direct appeal, "I know almost all about the singular person of whom we are now conversing the girl is a Greek."
"So I should presume by her dress; you tell me no more than what the whole of the spectators know."
"I am extremely sorry you find me so ignorant a cicerone," replied Morcerf, "but I am obliged to confess I have nothing further to communicate—yes, I do know one thing more: she is a musician; for one day that I breakfasted with the count, I heard the sound of a guzla it is impossible it could have been touched by any other finger than her own."
"Then your count entertains visitors, does he?" asked Madame Danglars.
"In a most noble manner, I can assure you."
"I must persuade M. Danglars to invite him to a ball or dinner, or something of the sort, that he may ask us in return."
"What!" said Debray, laughing; "you would go to his house?"
"Why not? my husband could accompany me."
"But he is a bachelor."
"You have ample proof to the contrary," said the baroness, as she laughingly pointed to the beautiful Greek.
"No, no!" exclaimed Debray; "she is his slave. Do you recollect, Morcerf, his telling us so at your breakfast?"
"Well, then," said the baroness, "she has more the air of a princess."
"Of the Arabian Nights?"
