When Albert found himself alone with Monte Cristo, "My dearcount," said he, "allow me to commence my services ascicerone by showing you a specimen of a bachelor'sapartment. You, who are accustomed to the palaces of Italy,can amuse yourself by calculating in how many square feet ayoung man who is not the worst lodged in Paris can live. Aswe pass from one room to another, I will open the windows tolet you breathe." Monte Cristo had already seen thebreakfast-room and the salon on the ground-floor. Albert ledhim first to his atelier, which was, as we have said, hisfavorite apartment. Monte Cristo quickly appreciated allthat Albert had collected here - old cabinets, Japaneseporcelain, Oriental stuffs, Venetian glass, arms from allparts of the world - everything was familiar to him; and atthe first glance he recognized their date, their country,and their origin. Morcerf had expected he should be theguide; on the contrary, it was he who, under the count'sguidance, followed a course of archaeology, mineralogy, andnatural history. They descended to the first floor; Albertled his guest into the salon. The salon was filled with theworks of modern artists; there were landscapes by Dupre,with their long reeds and tall trees, their lowing oxen andmarvellous skies; Delacroix's Arabian cavaliers, with theirlong white burnouses, their shining belts, their damaskedarms, their horses, who tore each other with their teethwhile their riders contended fiercely with their maces;aquarelles of Boulanger, representing Notre Dame de Pariswith that vigor that makes the artist the rival of the poet;there were paintings by Diaz, who makes his flowers morebeautiful than flowers, his suns more brilliant than thesun; designs by Decamp, as vividly colored as those ofSalvator Rosa, but more poetic; pastels by Giraud andMuller, representing children like angels and women with thefeatures of a virgin; sketches torn from the album ofDauzats' "Travels in the East," that had been made in a fewseconds on the saddle of a camel, or beneath the dome of amosque - in a word, all that modern art can give inexchange and as recompense for the art lost and gone withages long since past.

Albert expected to have something new this time to show tothe traveller, but, to his great surprise, the latter,without seeking for the signatures, many of which, indeed,were only initials, named instantly the author of everypicture in such a manner that it was easy to see that eachname was not only known to him, but that each styleassociated with it had been appreciated and studied by him.From the salon they passed into the bed-chamber; it was amodel of taste and simple elegance. A single portrait,signed by Leopold Robert, shone in its carved and gildedframe. This portrait attracted the Count of Monte Cristo'sattention, for he made three rapid steps in the chamber, andstopped suddenly before it. It was the portrait of a youngwoman of five or six and twenty, with a dark complexion, andlight and lustrous eyes, veiled beneath long lashes. Shewore the picturesque costume of the Catalan fisherwomen, ared and black bodice, and golden pins in her hair. She waslooking at the sea, and her form was outlined on the blueocean and sky. The light was so faint in the room thatAlbert did not perceive the pallor that spread itself overthe count's visage, or the nervous heaving of his chest andshoulders. Silence prevailed for an instant, during whichMonte Cristo gazed intently on the picture.

"You have there a most charming mistress, viscount," saidthe count in a perfectly calm tone; "and this costume - aball costume, doubtless - becomes her admirably."

"Ah, monsieur," returned Albert, "I would never forgive youthis mistake if you had seen another picture beside this.You do not know my mother; she it is whom you see here. Shehad her portrait painted thus six or eight years ago. Thiscostume is a fancy one, it appears, and the resemblance isso great that I think I still see my mother the same as shewas in 1830. The countess had this portrait painted duringthe count's absence. She doubtless intended giving him anagreeable surprise; but, strange to say, this portraitseemed to displease my father, and the value of the picture,which is, as you see, one of the best works of LeopoldRobert, could not overcome his dislike to it. It is true,between ourselves, that M. de Morcerf is one of the mostassiduous peers at the Luxembourg, a general renowned fortheory, but a most mediocre amateur of art. It is differentwith my mother, who paints exceedingly well, and who,unwilling to part with so valuable a picture, gave it to meto put here, where it would be less likely to displease M.de Morcerf, whose portrait, by Gros, I will also show you.Excuse my talking of family matters, but as I shall have thehonor of introducing you to the count, I tell you this toprevent you making any allusions to this picture. Thepicture seems to have a malign influence, for my motherrarely comes here without looking at it, and still morerarely does she look at it without weeping. Thisdisagreement is the only one that has ever taken placebetween the count and countess, who are still as muchunited, although married more than twenty years, as on thefirst day of their wedding."

Monte Cristo glanced rapidly at Albert, as if to seek ahidden meaning in his words, but it was evident the youngman uttered them in the simplicity of his heart. "Now," saidAlbert, "that you have seen all my treasures, allow me tooffer them to you, unworthy as they are. Consider yourselfas in your own house, and to put yourself still more at yourease, pray accompany me to the apartments of M. de Morcerf,he whom I wrote from Rome an account of the services yourendered me, and to whom I announced your promised visit,and I may say that both the count and countess anxiouslydesire to thank you in person. You are somewhat blase Iknow, and family scenes have not much effect on Sinbad theSailor, who has seen so many others. However, accept what Ipropose to you as an initiation into Parisian life - a lifeof politeness, visiting, and introductions." Monte Cristobowed without making any answer; he accepted the offerwithout enthusiasm and without regret, as one of thoseconventions of society which every gentleman looks upon as aduty. Albert summoned his servant, and ordered him toacquaint M. and Madame de Morcerf of the arrival of theCount of Monte Cristo. Albert followed him with the count.When they arrived at the ante-chamber, above the door wasvisible a shield, which, by its rich ornaments and itsharmony with the rest of the furniture, indicated theimportance the owner attached to this blazon. Monte Cristostopped and examined it attentively.

"Azure seven merlets, or, placed bender," said he. "Theseare, doubtless, your family arms? Except the knowledge ofblazons, that enables me to decipher them, I am veryignorant of heraldry - I, a count of a fresh creation,fabricated in Tuscany by the aid of a commandery of St.Stephen, and who would not have taken the trouble had I notbeen told that when you travel much it is necessary.Besides, you must have something on the panels of yourcarriage, to escape being searched by the custom-houseofficers. Excuse my putting such a question to you."

"It is not indiscreet," returned Morcerf, with thesimplicity of conviction. "You have guessed rightly. Theseare our arms, that is, those of my father, but they are, asyou see, joined to another shield, which has gules, a silvertower, which are my mother's. By her side I am Spanish, butthe family of Morcerf is French, and, I have heard, one ofthe oldest of the south of France."

"Yes," replied Monte Cristo "these blazons prove that.Almost all the armed pilgrims that went to the Holy Landtook for their arms either a cross, in honor of theirmission, or birds of passage, in sign of the long voyagethey were about to undertake, and which they hoped toaccomplish on the wings of faith. One of your ancestors hadjoined the Crusades, and supposing it to be only that of St.Louis, that makes you mount to the thirteenth century, whichis tolerably ancient."

"It is possible," said Morcerf; "my father has in his studya genealogical tree which will tell you all that, and onwhich I made commentaries that would have greatly edifiedHozier and Jaucourt. At present I no longer think of it, andyet I must tell you that we are beginning to occupyourselves greatly with these things under our populargovernment."

"Well, then, your government would do well to choose fromthe past something better than the things that I havenoticed on your monuments, and which have no heraldicmeaning whatever. As for you, viscount," continued MonteCristo to Morcerf, "you are more fortunate than thegovernment, for your arms are really beautiful, and speak tothe imagination. Yes, you are at once from Provence andSpain; that explains, if the portrait you showed me be like,the dark hue I so much admired on the visage of the nobleCatalan." It would have required the penetration of Oedipusor the Sphinx to have divined the irony the count concealedbeneath these words, apparently uttered with the greatestpoliteness. Morcerf thanked him with a smile, and pushedopen the door above which were his arms, and which, as wehave said, opened into the salon. In the most conspicuouspart of the salon was another portrait. It was that of aman, from five to eight and thirty, in the uniform of ageneral officer, wearing the double epaulet of heavybullion, that indicates superior rank, the ribbon of theLegion of Honor around his neck, which showed he was acommander, and on the right breast, the star of a grandofficer of the order of the Saviour, and on the left that ofthe grand cross of Charles III., which proved that theperson represented by the picture had served in the wars ofGreece and Spain, or, what was just the same thing asregarded decorations, had fulfilled some diplomatic missionin the two countries.

Monte Cristo was engaged in examining this portrait with noless care than he had bestowed upon the other, when anotherdoor opened, and he found himself opposite to the Count ofMorcerf in person. He was a man of forty to forty-fiveyears, but he seemed at least fifty, and his black mustacheand eyebrows contrasted strangely with his almost whitehair, which was cut short, in the military fashion. He wasdressed in plain clothes, and wore at his button-hole theribbons of the different orders to which he belonged. Heentered with a tolerably dignified step, and some littlehaste. Monte Cristo saw him advance towards him withoutmaking a single step. It seemed as if his feet were rootedto the ground, and his eyes on the Count of Morcerf."Father," said the young man, "I have the honor ofpresenting to you the Count of Monte Cristo, the generousfriend whom I had the good fortune to meet in the criticalsituation of which I have told you."

"You are most welcome, monsieur," said the Count of Morcerf,saluting Monte Cristo with a smile, "and monsieur hasrendered our house, in preserving its only heir, a servicewhich insures him our eternal gratitude." As he said thesewords, the count of Morcerf pointed to a chair, while heseated himself in another opposite the window.

Monte Cristo, in taking the seat Morcerf offered him, placedhimself in such a manner as to remain concealed in theshadow of the large velvet curtains, and read on thecareworn and livid features of the count a whole history ofsecret griefs written in each wrinkle time had plantedthere. "The countess," said Morcerf, "was at her toilet whenshe was informed of the visit she was about to receive. Shewill, however, be in the salon in ten minutes."

"It is a great honor to me," returned Monte Cristo, "to bethus, on the first day of my arrival in Paris, brought incontact with a man whose merit equals his reputation, and towhom fortune has for once been equitable, but has she notstill on the plains of Metidja, or in the mountains ofAtlas, a marshal's staff to offer you?"

"Oh," replied Morcerf, reddening slightly, "I have left theservice, monsieur. Made a peer at the Restoration, I servedthrough the first campaign under the orders of MarshalBourmont. I could, therefore, expect a higher rank, and whoknows what might have happened had the elder branch remainedon the throne? But the Revolution of July was, it seems,sufficiently glorious to allow itself to be ungrateful, andit was so for all services that did not date from theimperial period. I tendered my resignation, for when youhave gained your epaulets on the battle-field, you do notknow how to manoeuvre on the slippery grounds of the salons.I have hung up my sword, and cast myself into politics. Ihave devoted myself to industry; I study the useful arts.During the twenty years I served, I often wished to do so,but I had not the time."

"These are the ideas that render your nation superior to anyother," returned Monte Cristo. "A gentleman of high birth,possessor of an ample fortune, you have consented to gainyour promotion as an obscure soldier, step by step - thisis uncommon; then become general, peer of France, commanderof the Legion of Honor, you consent to again commence asecond apprenticeship, without any other hope or any otherdesire than that of one day becoming useful to yourfellow-creatures; this, indeed, is praiseworthy, - nay,more, it is sublime." Albert looked on and listened withastonishment; he was not used to see Monte Cristo give ventto such bursts of enthusiasm. "Alas," continued thestranger, doubtless to dispel the slight cloud that coveredMorcerf's brow, "we do not act thus in Italy; we growaccording to our race and our species, and we pursue thesame lines, and often the same uselessness, all our lives."

"But, monsieur," said the Count of Morcerf, "for a man ofyour merit, Italy is not a country, and France opens herarms to receive you; respond to her call. France will not,perhaps, be always ungrateful. She treats her children ill,but she always welcomes strangers."

"Ah, father," said Albert with a smile, "it is evident youdo not know the Count of Monte Cristo; he despises allhonors, and contents himself with those written on hispassport."

"That is the most just remark," replied the stranger, "Iever heard made concerning myself."

"You have been free to choose your career," observed theCount of Morcerf, with a sigh; "and you have chosen the pathstrewed with flowers."

"Precisely, monsieur," replied Monte Cristo with one ofthose smiles that a painter could never represent or aphysiologist analyze.

"If I did not fear to fatigue you," said the general,evidently charmed with the count's manners, "I would havetaken you to the Chamber; there is a debate very curious tothose who are strangers to our modern senators."

"I shall be most grateful, monsieur, if you will, at somefuture time, renew your offer, but I have been flatteredwith the hope of being introduced to the countess, and Iwill therefore wait."

"Ah, here is my mother," cried the viscount. Monte Cristo,turned round hastily, and saw Madame de Morcerf at theentrance of the salon, at the door opposite to that by whichher husband had entered, pale and motionless; when MonteCristo turned round, she let fall her arm, which for someunknown reason had been resting on the gilded door-post. Shehad been there some moments, and had heard the last words ofthe visitor. The latter rose and bowed to the countess, whoinclined herself without speaking. "Ah, good heavens,madame," said the count, "are you ill, or is it the heat ofthe room that affects you?"

"Are you ill, mother?" cried the viscount, springing towardsher.

She thanked them both with a smile. "No," returned she, "butI feel some emotion on seeing, for the first time, the manwithout whose intervention we should have been in tears anddesolation. Monsieur," continued the countess, advancingwith the majesty of a queen, "I owe to you the life of myson, and for this I bless you. Now, I thank you for thepleasure you give me in thus affording me the opportunity ofthanking you as I have blessed you, from the bottom of myheart." The count bowed again, but lower than before; He waseven paler than Mercedes. "Madame," said he, "the count andyourself recompense too generously a simple action. To savea man, to spare a father's feelings, or a mother'ssensibility, is not to do a good action, but a simple deedof humanity." At these words, uttered with the mostexquisite sweetness and politeness, Madame de Morcerfreplied. "It is very fortunate for my son, monsieur, that hefound such a friend, and I thank God that things are thus."And Mercedes raised her fine eyes to heaven with so ferventan expression of gratitude, that the count fancied he sawtears in them. M. de Morcerf approached her. "Madame," saidhe. "I have already made my excuses to the count forquitting him, and I pray you to do so also. The sittingcommences at two; it is now three, and I am to speak."

"Go, then, and monsieur and I will strive our best to forgetyour absence," replied the countess, with the same tone ofdeep feeling. "Monsieur," continued she, turning to MonteCristo, "will you do us the honor of passing the rest of theday with us?"

"Believe me, madame, I feel most grateful for your kindness,but I got out of my travelling carriage at your door thismorning, and I am ignorant how I am installed in Paris,which I scarcely know; this is but a trifling inquietude, Iknow, but one that may be appreciated."

"We shall have the pleasure another time," said thecountess; "you promise that?" Monte Cristo inclined himselfwithout answering, but the gesture might pass for assent. "Iwill not detain you, monsieur," continued the countess; "Iwould not have our gratitude become indiscreet orimportunate."

"My dear Count," said Albert, "I will endeavor to returnyour politeness at Rome, and place my coupe at your disposaluntil your own be ready."

"A thousand thanks for your kindness, viscount," returnedthe Count of Monte Cristo "but I suppose that M. Bertucciohas suitably employed the four hours and a half I have givenhim, and that I shall find a carriage of some sort ready atthe door." Albert was used to the count's manner ofproceeding; he knew that, like Nero, he was in search of theimpossible, and nothing astonished him, but wishing to judgewith his own eyes how far the count's orders had beenexecuted, he accompanied him to the door of the house. MonteCristo was not deceived. As soon as he appeared in the Countof Morcerf's ante-chamber, a footman, the same who at Romehad brought the count's card to the two young men, andannounced his visit, sprang into the vestibule, and when hearrived at the door the illustrious traveller found hiscarriage awaiting him. It was a coupe of Koller's building,and with horses and harness for which Drake had, to theknowledge of all the lions of Paris, refused on the previousday seven hundred guineas. "Monsieur," said the count toAlbert, "I do not ask you to accompany me to my house, as Ican only show you a habitation fitted up in a hurry, and Ihave, as you know, a reputation to keep up as regards notbeing taken by surprise. Give me, therefore, one more daybefore I invite you; I shall then be certain not to fail inmy hospitality."

"If you ask me for a day, count, I know what to anticipate;it will not be a house I shall see, but a palace. You havedecidedly some genius at your control."

"Ma foi, spread that idea," replied the Count of MonteCristo, putting his foot on the velvet-lined steps of hissplendid carriage, "and that will be worth something to meamong the ladies." As he spoke, he sprang into the vehicle,the door was closed, but not so rapidly that Monte Cristofailed to perceive the almost imperceptible movement whichstirred the curtains of the apartment in which he had leftMadame de Morcerf. When Albert returned to his mother, hefound her in the boudoir reclining in a large velvetarm-chair, the whole room so obscure that only the shiningspangle, fastened here and there to the drapery, and theangles of the gilded frames of the pictures, showed withsome degree of brightness in the gloom. Albert could not seethe face of the countess, as it was covered with a thin veilshe had put on her head, and which fell over her features inmisty folds, but it seemed to him as though her voice hadaltered. He could distinguish amid the perfumes of the rosesand heliotropes in the flower-stands, the sharp and fragrantodor of volatile salts, and he noticed in one of the chasedcups on the mantle-piece the countess's smelling-bottle,taken from its shagreen case, and exclaimed in a tone ofuneasiness, as he entered, - "My dear mother, have you beenill during my absence?"

"No, no, Albert, but you know these roses, tuberoses, andorange-flowers throw out at first, before one is used tothem, such violent perfumes."

"Then, my dear mother," said Albert, putting his hand to thebell, "they must be taken into the ante-chamber. You arereally ill, and just now were so pale as you came into theroom" -

"Was I pale, Albert?"

"Yes; a pallor that suits you admirably, mother, but whichdid not the less alarm my father and myself."

"Did your father speak of it?" inquired Mercedes eagerly.

"No, madame; but do you not remember that he spoke of thefact to you?"

"Yes, I do remember," replied the countess. A servantentered, summoned by Albert's ring of the bell. "Take theseflowers into the anteroom or dressing-room," said theviscount; "they make the countess ill." The footman obeyedhis orders. A long pause ensued, which lasted until all theflowers were removed. "What is this name of Monte Cristo?"inquired the countess, when the servant had taken away thelast vase of flowers, "is it a family name, or the name ofthe estate, or a simple title?"

"I believe, mother, it is merely a title. The countpurchased an island in the Tuscan archipelago, and, as hetold you to-day, has founded a commandery. You know the samething was done for Saint Stephen of Florence, Saint George,Constantinian of Parma, and even for the Order of Malta.Except this, he has no pretension to nobility, and callshimself a chance count, although the general opinion at Romeis that the count is a man of very high distinction."

"His manners are admirable," said the countess, "at least,as far as I could judge in the few minutes he remainedhere."

"They are perfect mother, so perfect, that they surpass byfar all I have known in the leading aristocracy of the threeproudest nobilities of Europe - the English, the Spanish,and the German." The countess paused a moment; then, after aslight hesitation, she resumed, - "You have seen, my dearAlbert - I ask the question as a mother - you have seen M.de Monte Cristo in his house, you are quicksighted, havemuch knowledge of the world, more tact than is usual at yourage, do you think the count is really what he appears tobe?"

"What does he appear to be?"

"Why, you have just said, - a man of high distinction."

"I told you, my dear mother, he was esteemed such."

"But what is your own opinion, Albert?"

"I must tell you that I have not come to any decided opinionrespecting him, but I think him a Maltese."

"I do not ask you of his origin but what he is."

"Ah, what he is; that is quite another thing. I have seen somany remarkable things in him, that if you would have mereally say what I think, I shall reply that I really do lookupon him as one of Byron's heroes, whom misery has markedwith a fatal brand; some Manfred, some Lara, some Werner,one of those wrecks, as it were, of some ancient family,who, disinherited of their patrimony, have achieved one bythe force of their adventurous genius, which has placed themabove the laws of society."

"You say" -

"I say that Monte Cristo is an island in the midst of theMediterranean, without inhabitants or garrison, the resortof smugglers of all nations, and pirates of every flag. Whoknows whether or not these industrious worthies do not payto their feudal lord some dues for his protection?"

"That is possible," said the countess, reflecting.

"Never mind," continued the young man, "smuggler or not, youmust agree, mother dear, as you have seen him, that theCount of Monte Cristo is a remarkable man, who will have thegreatest success in the salons of Paris. Why, this verymorning, in my rooms, he made his entree amongst us bystriking every man of us with amazement, not even exceptingChateau-Renaud."

"And what do you suppose is the count's age?" inquiredMercedes, evidently attaching great importance to thisquestion.

"Thirty-five or thirty-six, mother."

"So young, - it is impossible," said Mercedes, replying atthe same time to what Albert said as well as to her ownprivate reflection.

"It is the truth, however. Three or four times he has saidto me, and certainly without the slightest premeditation,`at such a period I was five years old, at another ten yearsold, at another twelve,' and I, induced by curiosity, whichkept me alive to these details, have compared the dates, andnever found him inaccurate. The age of this singular man,who is of no age, is then, I am certain, thirty-five.Besides, mother, remark how vivid his eye, how raven-blackhis hair, and his brow, though so pale, is free fromwrinkles, - he is not only vigorous, but also young." Thecountess bent her head, as if beneath a heavy wave of bitterthoughts. "And has this man displayed a friendship for you,Albert?" she asked with a nervous shudder.

"I am inclined to think so."

"And - do - you - like - him?"

"Why, he pleases me in spite of Franz d'Epinay, who tries toconvince me that he is a being returned from the otherworld." The countess shuddered. "Albert," she said, in avoice which was altered by emotion, "I have always put youon your guard against new acquaintances. Now you are a man,and are able to give me advice; yet I repeat to you, Albert,be prudent."

"Why, my dear mother, it is necessary, in order to make youradvice turn to account, that I should know beforehand what Ihave to distrust. The count never plays, he only drinks purewater tinged with a little sherry, and is so rich that hecannot, without intending to laugh at me, try to borrowmoney. What, then, have I to fear from him?"

"You are right," said the countess, "and my fears areweakness, especially when directed against a man who hassaved your life. How did your father receive him, Albert? Itis necessary that we should be more than complaisant to thecount. M. de Morcerf is sometimes occupied, his businessmakes him reflective, and he might, without intending it" -

"Nothing could be in better taste than my father's demeanor,madame," said Albert; "nay, more, he seemed greatlyflattered at two or three compliments which the count veryskilfully and agreeably paid him with as much ease as if hehad known him these thirty years. Each of these littletickling arrows must have pleased my father," added Albertwith a laugh. "And thus they parted the best possiblefriends, and M. de Morcerf even wished to take him to theChamber to hear the speakers." The countess made no reply.She fell into so deep a revery that her eyes graduallyclosed. The young man, standing up before her, gazed uponher with that filial affection which is so tender andendearing with children whose mothers are still young andhandsome. Then, after seeing her eyes closed, and hearingher breathe gently, he believed she had dropped asleep, andleft the apartment on tiptoe, closing the door after himwith the utmost precaution. "This devil of a fellow," hemuttered, shaking his head; "I said at the time he wouldcreate a sensation here, and I measure his effect by aninfallible thermometer. My mother has noticed him, and hemust therefore, perforce, be remarkable." He went down tothe stables, not without some slight annoyance, when heremembered that the Count of Monte Cristo had laid his handson a "turnout" which sent his bays down to second place inthe opinion of connoisseurs. "Most decidedly," said he, "menare not equal, and I must beg my father to develop thistheorem in the Chamber of Peers."