"That was an oversight, certainly," replied the count; "but tell me, does the Count of Morcerf never visit the Opera?
I have been looking for him, but without success."
"He will be here to-night."
"In what part of the house?"
"In the baroness's box, I believe."
"That charming young woman with her is her daughter?"
"Yes."
"I congratulate you."
Morcerf smiled.
"We will discuss that subject at length some future time," said he.
"But what do you think of the music?"
"What music?"
"Why, the music you have been listening to."
"Oh, it is well enough as the production of a human composer, sung by featherless bipeds, to quote the late Diogenes."
"From which it would seem, my dear count, that you can at pleasure enjoy the seraphic strains that proceed from the seven choirs of paradise?"
"You are right, in some degree; when I wish to listen to sounds more exquisitely attuned to melody than mortal ear ever yet listened to, I go to sleep."
"Then sleep here, my dear count. The conditions are favorable; what else was opera invented for?"
"No, thank you. Your orchestra is too noisy.
To sleep after the manner I speak of, absolute calm and silence are necessary, and then a certain preparation"—
"I know—the famous hashish!"
"Precisely.
So, my dear viscount, whenever you wish to be regaled with music come and sup with me."
"I have already enjoyed that treat when breakfasting with you," said Morcerf.
"Do you mean at Rome?"
"I do."
"Ah, then, I suppose you heard Haidee's guzla; the poor exile frequently beguiles a weary hour in playing over to me the airs of her native land."
Morcerf did not pursue the subject, and Monte Cristo himself fell into a silent reverie.
The bell rang at this moment for the rising of the curtain.
"You will excuse my leaving you," said the count, turning in the direction of his box.
"What? Are you going?"
"Pray, say everything that is kind to Countess G—— on the part of her friend the Vampire."
"And what message shall I convey to the baroness!"
"That, with her permission, I shall do myself the honor of paying my respects in the course of the evening."
The third act had begun; and during its progress the Count of Morcerf, according to his promise, made his appearance in the box of Madame Danglars.
The Count of Morcerf was not a person to excite either interest or curiosity in a place of public amusement; his presence, therefore, was wholly unnoticed, save by the occupants of the box in which he had just seated himself.
The quick eye of Monte Cristo however, marked his coming; and a slight though meaning smile passed over his lips.
Haidee, whose soul seemed centred in the business of the stage, like all unsophisticated natures, delighted in whatever addressed itself to the eye or ear.
The third act passed off as usual. Mesdemoiselles Noblet, Julie, and Leroux executed the customary pirouettes; Robert duly challenged the Prince of Granada; and the royal father of the princess Isabella, taking his daughter by the hand, swept round the stage with majestic strides, the better to display the rich folds of his velvet robe and mantle. After which the curtain again fell, and the spectators poured forth from the theatre into the lobbies and salon.
The count left his box, and a moment later was saluting the Baronne Danglars, who could not restrain a cry of mingled pleasure and surprise.
"You are welcome, count!" she exclaimed, as he entered. "I have been most anxious to see you, that I might repeat orally the thanks writing can so ill express."
"Surely so trifling a circumstance cannot deserve a place in your remembrance.
Believe me, madame, I had entirely forgotten it."
"But it is not so easy to forget, monsieur, that the very next day after your princely gift you saved the life of my dear friend, Madame de Villefort, which was endangered by the very animals your generosity restored to me."
"This time, at least, I do not deserve your thanks. It was Ali, my Nubian slave, who rendered this service to Madame de Villefort."
"Was it Ali," asked the Count of Morcerf, "who rescued my son from the hands of bandits?"
"No, count," replied Monte Cristo taking the hand held out to him by the general; "in this instance I may fairly and freely accept your thanks; but you have already tendered them, and fully discharged your debt—if indeed there existed one—and I feel almost mortified to find you still reverting to the subject.
May I beg of you, baroness, to honor me with an introduction to your daughter?"
"Oh, you are no stranger—at least not by name," replied Madame Danglars, "and the last two or three days we have really talked of nothing but you.
Eugenie," continued the baroness, turning towards her daughter, "this is the Count of Monte Cristo."
The Count bowed, while Mademoiselle Danglars bent her head slightly.