She turned toward him with a serene smile just as he bowed to her. She seed to expect him to speak to her, while he appeared to think she would address him first. But both remained silent. After rely exchanging bows, Monte Cristo directed his steps toward Albert, who greeted him warmly.
"Have you seen my mother?" Albert asked.
"I just had the pleasure," the count replied, "but I haven’t seen your father."
"Look, he’s over there, talking politics with that little group of supposed geniuses."
"Really?" Monte Cristo said. "Those gentlen are considered great talents? I wouldn’t have guessed. What kind of talent are they celebrated for? You know there are many different kinds."
"That tall, stern-looking man is very scholarly. He discovered so type of lizard near Ro that has an extra vertebra compared to normal lizards. He imdiately presented his finding to the scientific institute. The discovery was debated for ages but eventually decided in his favor. I assure you, that vertebra caused quite a stir in academic circles. The gentleman was promoted from knight to officer in the Legion of Honor because of it."
"Well," Monte Cristo said, "that honor seems wisely awarded. I suppose if he’d found yet another vertebra, they’d have made him a commander."
"Very likely," Albert agreed.
"And who’s that person who decided to wrap himself in a blue coat embroidered with green?"
"Oh, that coat wasn’t his idea. The governnt commissioned David to design a uniform for the Academy mbers."
"I see. So this gentleman is an academician?"
"He was elected just last week."
"And what’s his particular area of expertise?"
"His specialty? I believe he shoves pins through rabbits’ heads, makes chickens eat dye, and extracts spinal fluid from dogs using implents."
"And he was made a mber of the Science Academy for this?"
"No, the French Academy."
"But what does the French Academy have to do with any of that?"
"I was just getting to that. Apparently-"
"His experints have significantly advanced science, I assu?"
"No, his writing style is very good."
"That must be very flattering to the rabbits with pins in their heads, the chickens with dyed bones, and the dogs whose spinal fluid he’s extracted."
Albert laughed.
"What about the other one?" the count asked.
"Which one?"
"The third man."
"The one in the dark blue coat?"
"Yes."
"He’s a colleague of the count’s and one of the most vocal opponents of creating a uniform for the Chamber of Peers. He was very successful in that debate. The liberal newspapers initially criticized him, but his noble opposition to the court’s wishes has now won him favor with journalists. They’re talking about making him an ambassador."
"And what qualifies him for the peerage?"
"He composed two or three comic operas, wrote four or five articles in a newspaper, and voted with the governnt for five or six years."
"Bravo, Viscount," Monte Cristo said with a smile. "You’re a delightful tour guide. Now, will you do a favor?"
"What’s that?"
"Don’t introduce to any of these gentlen. And if they want to et , please warn first."
Just then, the count felt pressure on his arm. He turned around to find Danglars.
"Ah, Baron, is that you?" he said.
"Why do you call baron?" Danglars asked. "You know I don’t care about my title. I’m not like you, Viscount, you actually enjoy your title, don’t you?"
"Certainly," Albert replied. "Without my title, I’d be nothing. But you, even without being a baron, would still be a millionaire."
"Which seems to the finest title of all these days," Danglars said.
"Unfortunately," Monte Cristo interjected, "the title of millionaire doesn’t last for life like baron or academician. For example, the millionaires Franck and Poulmann of Frankfurt just declared bankruptcy."
"What?" Danglars said, his face going pale.
"Yes, I received the news this evening by courier. I had about a million invested with them, but I was warned in ti and withdrew it a month ago."
"Oh my God!" Danglars exclaid. "They’ve drawn on for two hundred thousand francs!"
"Well, you can refuse to honor the draft. Their signature is basically worthless now."
"Yes, but it’s too late," Danglars said. "I’ve already honored their bills."
"Then," Monte Cristo said, "there goes two hundred thousand francs-"
"Shh, don’t ntion these things," Danglars interrupted, then leaned closer to Monte Cristo and added, "especially not in front of young Mr. Cavalcanti." He smiled and turned toward the young man in question.
Albert had left the count to speak with his mother, and Danglars moved to converse with young Cavalcanti. For a mont, Monte Cristo stood alone.
anwhile, the heat in the ballroom had beco excessive. Servants rushed through the rooms with trays loaded with ices and cold drinks. Monte Cristo wiped perspiration from his forehead but drew back when a servant approached with refreshnts. He took nothing.
Mada de Morcerf had been watching Monte Cristo closely. She noticed he’d taken nothing and even caught his gesture of refusal.
"Albert," she asked her son, "did you notice that?"
"Notice what, Mother?"
"The count has never been willing to eat anything under M. de Morcerf’s roof."
"Well, yes, but he had breakfast with once. In fact, that was his first public appearance."
"But your house isn’t M. de Morcerf’s house," rcedes murmured. "And since he’s been here, I’ve been watching him."
"And?"
"He hasn’t taken anything yet."
"The count is very disciplined about food."
rcedes smiled sadly.
"Go to him," she said. "When the next server passes, insist that he take sothing."
"But why, Mother?"
"Just to please , Albert," rcedes said.
Albert kissed his mother’s hand and approached the count. Another tray passed, as loaded as the previous ones. rcedes watched as Albert tried to persuade the count, but he stubbornly refused. Albert returned to his mother, who had grown even paler.
"Well," she said, "you see how he refuses?"
"Yes, but why does this bother you?"
"You know, Albert, won have strange intuitions. I would have liked to see the count accept sothing in my house, even just an ice. Perhaps he can’t adjust to our way of living and prefers sothing else."
"Oh no, I’ve seen him eat everything when he was in Italy. He’s probably just not hungry this evening."
"Besides," the countess added, "accustod as he is to hot climates, perhaps he doesn’t feel the heat the way we do."
"I don’t think that’s it. He actually complained about feeling suffocated and asked why we didn’t open the shutters along with the windows."
"In other words," rcedes said, "it was his way of making sure I understood his refusal was intentional."
She left the room. A minute later, servants threw open the shutters. Through the jasmine and clematis hanging over the windows, guests could see the garden decorated with lanterns and the dinner table set up under the tent. Dancers, card players, and conversationalists all exclaid with joy, gratefully inhaling the breeze that floated inside.
At the sa mont, rcedes reappeared, even paler than before, but wearing that unshakeable expression she sotis adopted. She walked straight to the group where her husband stood at the center.
"Don’t keep these gentlen inside, Count," she said. "I’m sure they’d prefer breathing in the garden to suffocating in here, especially since they’re not playing cards."
"Ah," said a gallant old general who’d fought in past wars, "we won’t go to the garden alone."
"Then," rcedes said, "I’ll lead the way." She turned toward Monte Cristo and added, "Count, will you give your arm?"
The count almost staggered at these simple words. He fixed his eyes on rcedes. It was only a montary glance, but it seed to the countess to last a century, so much emotion was expressed in that single look.
He offered his arm to the countess. She took it, or rather, barely touched it with her small hand, and together they descended the steps lined with rhododendrons and callias. Behind them, through another exit, a group of about twenty people rushed into the garden with loud exclamations of delight.
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