once introduced our readers, and where the baroness was examining some drawings, which her daughter passed to her after having looked at them with Cavalcanti, his presence soon produced its usual effect; and it was with smiles that the baroness received the count, although she had been a little disconcerted at the announcement of his name. The latter embraced the whole scene at a glance.
The baroness was partially reclining on a causeuse, Eugénie sat near her, and Cavalcanti was standing. Cavalcanti, dressed in black, like one of Goethe's heroes, with japanned shoes and open white silk stockings, passed a white and tolerably nice-looking hand through his light hair, in the midst of which sparkled a diamond, which, in spite of Monte-Cristo's advice, the vain young man had been unable to resist putting on his little finger. This movement was accompanied by killing glances at Mademoiselle Danglars, and sighs addressed to the same party.
Mademoiselle Danglars was still the same—cold, beautiful, and satirical. Not one of these glances, nor one sigh, was lost on her; they might have been said to fall on the shield of Minerva, which some philosophers assert protected sometimes the breast of Sappho. Eugénie bowed coldly to the count, and availed herself of the first moment when the conversation became earnest to escape to her study, whence very soon two cheerful and laughing voices being heard, in connection with the first notes of the piano, assured Monte-Cristo that Mademoiselle Danglars preferred to his society and to that of Cavalcanti the company of Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly, her singing governess.
It was then, especially while conversing with Madame Danglars, and apparently absorbed by the charm of the conversation, the count remarked M. Andrea Cavalcanti's solicitude, his manner of listening to the music at the door he dared not pass, and of manifesting his admiration.
The banker soon returned. His first look was certainly directed toward Monte-Cristo, but the second was for Andrea. As for his wife, he bowed to her in the way in which some husbands do to their wives, but which bachelors will never comprehend, until a very extensive code is published on conjugal life.
"Have not the ladies invited you to join them at the piano?" said Danglars to Andrea.
"Alas! no, sir," replied Andrea, with a sigh, still more remarkable than the former ones, Danglars immediately advanced toward the door and opened it.
The two young ladies were seen seated on the same chair, at the piano, accompanying themselves, each with one hand, a fancy to which they had accustomed themselves, and performed admirably. Mademoi-
