For that reason I wished to see you, to speak to you, to warn you against every one, but especially against him.
Tell me," cried Villefort, fixing his eyes more steadfastly on her than he had ever done before, "did you ever reveal to any one our connection?"
"Never, to any one."
"You understand me," replied Villefort, affectionately; "when I say any one,—pardon my urgency,—to any one living I mean?"
"Yes, yes, I understand very well," ejaculated the baroness; "never, I swear to you."
"Were you ever in the habit of writing in the evening what had transpired in the morning?
Do you keep a journal?"
"No, my life has been passed in frivolity; I wish to forget it myself."
"Do you talk in your sleep?"
"I sleep soundly, like a child; do you not remember?"
The color mounted to the baroness's face, and Villefort turned awfully pale.
"It is true," said he, in so low a tone that he could hardly be heard.
"Well?" said the baroness.
"Well, I understand what I now have to do," replied Villefort. "In less than one week from this time I will ascertain who this M. de Monte Cristo is, whence he comes, where he goes, and why he speaks in our presence of children that have been disinterred in a garden."
Villefort pronounced these words with an accent which would have made the count shudder had he heard him.
Then he pressed the hand the baroness reluctantly gave him, and led her respectfully back to the door.
Madame Danglars returned in another cab to the passage, on the other side of which she found her carriage, and her coachman sleeping peacefully on his box while waiting for her.
Chapter 68.
A Summer Ball.
The same day during the interview between Madame Danglars and the procureur, a travelling-carriage entered the Rue du Helder, passed through the gateway 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 Elysees, 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 towards 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 Treport."
"Indeed?"
"And I have come at once 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, a foreigner, 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, feigning uneasiness.
"Come, come," said Albert, "do not assume so much indifference. It is said, sympathy travels rapidly, and when at Treport, I felt the electric shock; you have either been working for me or thinking of me."
"Possibly," said Monte Cristo, "I have indeed thought of you, but the magnetic wire I was guiding acted, indeed, without my knowledge."
"Indeed?
Pray tell me how it happened?"
"Willingly.
M. Danglars dined with me."
"I know it; to avoid meeting him, my mother and I left town."
"But he met here M. Andrea Cavalcanti."
"Your Italian prince?"
"Not so fast; M. Andrea only calls himself count."
"Calls himself, do you say?"