At first sight the exterior of the house at Auteuil gave noindications of splendor, nothing one would expect from thedestined residence of the magnificent Count of Monte Cristo;but this simplicity was according to the will of its master,who positively ordered nothing to be altered outside. Thesplendor was within. Indeed, almost before the door opened,the scene changed. M. Bertuccio had outdone himself in thetaste displayed in furnishing, and in the rapidity withwhich it was executed. It is told that the Duc d'Antinremoved in a single night a whole avenue of trees thatannoyed Louis XIV.; in three days M. Bertuccio planted anentirely bare court with poplars, large spreading sycamoresto shade the different parts of the house, and in theforeground, instead of the usual paving-stones, half hiddenby the grass, there extended a lawn but that morning laiddown, and upon which the water was yet glistening. For therest, the orders had been issued by the count; he himselfhad given a plan to Bertuccio, marking the spot where eachtree was to be planted, and the shape and extent of the lawnwhich was to take the place of the paving-stones. Thus thehouse had become unrecognizable, and Bertuccio himselfdeclared that he scarcely knew it, encircled as it was by aframework of trees. The overseer would not have objected,while he was about it, to have made some improvements in thegarden, but the count had positively forbidden it to betouched. Bertuccio made amends, however, by loading theante-chambers, staircases, and mantle-pieces with flowers.

What, above all, manifested the shrewdness of the steward,and the profound science of the master, the one in carryingout the ideas of the other, was that this house whichappeared only the night before so sad and gloomy,impregnated with that sickly smell one can almost fancy tobe the smell of time, had in a single day acquired theaspect of life, was scented with its master's favoriteperfumes, and had the very light regulated according to hiswish. When the count arrived, he had under his touch hisbooks and arms, his eyes rested upon his favorite pictures;his dogs, whose caresses he loved, welcomed him in theante-chamber; the birds, whose songs delighted him, cheeredhim with their music; and the house, awakened from it's longsleep, like the sleeping beauty in the wood, lived, sang,and bloomed like the houses we have long cherished, and inwhich, when we are forced to leave them, we leave a part ofour souls. The servants passed gayly along the finecourt-yard; some, belonging to the kitchens, gliding downthe stairs, restored but the previous day, as if they hadalways inhabited the house; others filling the coach-houses,where the equipages, encased and numbered, appeared to havebeen installed for the last fifty years; and in the stablesthe horses replied with neighs to the grooms, who spoke tothem with much more respect than many servants pay theirmasters.

The library was divided into two parts on either side of thewall, and contained upwards of two thousand volumes; onedivision was entirely devoted to novels, and even the volumewhich had been published but the day before was to be seenin its place in all the dignity of its red and gold binding.On the other side of the house, to match with the library,was the conservatory, ornamented with rare flowers, thatbloomed in china jars; and in the midst of the greenhouse,marvellous alike to sight and smell, was a billiard-tablewhich looked as if it had been abandoned during the pasthour by players who had left the balls on the cloth. Onechamber alone had been respected by the magnificentBertuccio. Before this room, to which you could ascend bythe grand, and go out by the back staircase, the servantspassed with curiosity, and Bertuccio with terror. At fiveo'clock precisely, the count arrived before the house atAuteuil, followed by Ali. Bertuccio was awaiting thisarrival with impatience, mingled with uneasiness; he hopedfor some compliments, while, at the same time, he feared tohave frowns. Monte Cristo descended into the courtyard,walked all over the house, without giving any sign ofapprobation or pleasure, until he entered his bedroom,situated on the opposite side to the closed room; then heapproached a little piece of furniture, made of rosewood,which he had noticed at a previous visit. "That can only beto hold gloves," he said.

"Will your excellency deign to open it?" said the delightedBertuccio, "and you will find gloves in it." Elsewhere thecount found everything he required - smelling-bottles,cigars, knick-knacks.

"Good," he said; and M. Bertuccio left enraptured, so great,so powerful, and real was the influence exercised by thisman over all who surrounded him. At precisely six o'clockthe clatter of horses' hoofs was heard at the entrance door;it was our captain of Spahis, who had arrived on Medeah. "Iam sure I am the first," cried Morrel; "I did it on purposeto have you a minute to myself, before every one came. Julieand Emmanuel have a thousand things to tell you. Ah, reallythis is magnificent! But tell me, count, will your peopletake care of my horse?"

"Do not alarm yourself, my dear Maximilian - theyunderstand."

"I mean, because he wants petting. If you had seen at what apace he came - like the wind!"

"I should think so, - a horse that cost 5,000 francs!" saidMonte Cristo, in the tone which a father would use towards ason.

"Do you regret them?" asked Morrel, with his open laugh.

"I? Certainly not," replied the count. "No; I should onlyregret if the horse had not proved good."

"It is so good, that I have distanced M. de Chateau-Renaud,one of the best riders in France, and M. Debray, who bothmount the minister's Arabians; and close on their heels arethe horses of Madame Danglars, who always go at six leaguesan hour."

"Then they follow you?" asked Monte Cristo.

"See, they are here." And at the same minute a carriage withsmoking horses, accompanied by two mounted gentlemen,arrived at the gate, which opened before them. The carriagedrove round, and stopped at the steps, followed by thehorsemen. The instant Debray had touched the ground, he wasat the carriage-door. He offered his hand to the baroness,who, descending, took it with a peculiarity of mannerimperceptible to every one but Monte Cristo. But nothingescaped the count's notice, and he observed a little note,passed with the facility that indicates frequent practice,from the hand of Madame Danglars to that of the minister'ssecretary. After his wife the banker descended, as pale asthough he had issued from his tomb instead of his carriage.Madame Danglars threw a rapid and inquiring glance whichcould only be interpreted by Monte Cristo, around thecourt-yard, over the peristyle, and across the front of thehouse, then, repressing a slight emotion, which must havebeen seen on her countenance if she had not kept her color,she ascended the steps, saying to Morrel, "Sir, if you werea friend of mine, I should ask you if you would sell yourhorse."

Morrel smiled with an expression very like a grimace, andthen turned round to Monte Cristo, as if to ask him toextricate him from his embarrassment. The count understoodhim. "Ah, madame," he said, "why did you not make thatrequest of me?"

"With you, sir," replied the baroness, "one can wish fornothing, one is so sure to obtain it. If it were so with M.Morrel" -

"Unfortunately," replied the count, "I am witness that M.Morrel cannot give up his horse, his honor being engaged inkeeping it."

"How so?"

"He laid a wager he would tame Medeah in the space of sixmonths. You understand now that if he were to get rid of theanimal before the time named, he would not only lose hisbet, but people would say he was afraid; and a brave captainof Spahis cannot risk this, even to gratify a pretty woman,which is, in my opinion, one of the most sacred obligationsin the world."

"You see my position, madame," said Morrel, bestowing agrateful smile on Monte Cristo.

"It seems to me," said Danglars, in his coarse tone,ill-concealed by a forced smile, "that you have already gothorses enough." Madame Danglars seldom allowed remarks ofthis kind to pass unnoticed, but, to the surprise of theyoung people, she pretended not to hear it, and saidnothing. Monte Cristo smiled at her unusual humility, andshowed her two immense porcelain jars, over which woundmarine plants, of a size and delicacy that nature alonecould produce. The baroness was astonished. "Why," said she,"you could plant one of the chestnut-trees in the Tuileriesinside! How can such enormous jars have been manufactured?"

"Ah, madame," replied Monte Cristo, "you must not ask of us,the manufacturers of fine porcelain, such a question. It isthe work of another age, constructed by the genii of earthand water."

"How so? - at what period can that have been?"

"I do not know; I have only heard that an emperor of Chinahad an oven built expressly, and that in this oven twelvejars like this were successively baked. Two broke, from theheat of the fire; the other ten were sunk three hundredfathoms deep into the sea. The sea, knowing what wasrequired of her, threw over them her weeds, encircled themwith coral, and encrusted them with shells; the whole wascemented by two hundred years beneath these almostimpervious depths, for a revolution carried away the emperorwho wished to make the trial, and only left the documentsproving the manufacture of the jars and their descent intothe sea. At the end of two hundred years the documents werefound, and they thought of bringing up the jars. Diversdescended in machines, made expressly on the discovery, intothe bay where they were thrown; but of ten three onlyremained, the rest having been broken by the waves. I amfond of these jars, upon which, perhaps, misshapen,frightful monsters have fixed their cold, dull eyes, and inwhich myriads of small fish have slept, seeking a refugefrom the pursuit of their enemies." Meanwhile, Danglars, whohad cared little for curiosities, was mechanically tearingoff the blossoms of a splendid orange-tree, one afteranother. When he had finished with the orange-tree, he beganat the cactus; but this, not being so easily plucked as theorange-tree, pricked him dreadfully. He shuddered, andrubbed his eyes as though awaking from a dream.

"Sir," said Monte Cristo to him, "I do not recommend mypictures to you, who possess such splendid paintings; but,nevertheless, here are two by Hobbema, a Paul Potter, aMieris, two by Gerard Douw, a Raphael, a Vandyke, aZurbaran, and two or three by Murillo, worth looking at."

"Stay," said Debray; "I recognize this Hobbema."

"Ah, indeed!"

"Yes; it was proposed for the Museum."

"Which, I believe, does not contain one?" said Monte Cristo.

"No; and yet they refused to buy it."

"Why?" said Chateau-Renaud.

"You pretend not to know, - because government was not richenough."

"Ah, pardon me," said Chateau-Renaud; "I have heard of thesethings every day during the last eight years, and I cannotunderstand them yet."

"You will, by and by," said Debray.

"I think not," replied Chateau-Renaud.

"Major Bartolomeo Cavalcanti and Count Andrea Cavalcanti,"announced Baptistin. A black satin stock, fresh from themaker's hands, gray moustaches, a bold eye, a major'suniform, ornamented with three medals and five crosses - infact, the thorough bearing of an old soldier - such was theappearance of Major Bartolomeo Cavalcanti, that tenderfather with whom we are already acquainted. Close to him,dressed in entirely new clothes, advanced smilingly CountAndrea Cavalcanti, the dutiful son, whom we also know. Thethree young people were talking together. On the entrance ofthe new comers, their eyes glanced from father to son, andthen, naturally enough, rested on the latter, whom theybegan criticising. "Cavalcanti!" said Debray. "A fine name,"said Morrel.

"Yes," said Chateau-Renaud, "these Italians are well namedand badly dressed."

"You are fastidious, Chateau-Renaud," replied Debray; "thoseclothes are well cut and quite new."

"That is just what I find fault with. That gentleman appearsto be well dressed for the first time in his life."

"Who are those gentlemen?" asked Danglars of Monte Cristo.

"You heard - Cavalcanti."

"That tells me their name, and nothing else."

"Ah, true. You do not know the Italian nobility; theCavalcanti are all descended from princes."

"Have they any fortune?"

"An enormous one."

"What do they do?"

"Try to spend it all. They have some business with you, Ithink, from what they told me the day before yesterday. I,indeed, invited them here to-day on your account. I willintroduce you to them."

"But they appear to speak French with a very pure accent,"said Danglars.

"The son has been educated in a college in the south; Ibelieve near Marseilles. You will find him quiteenthusiastic."

"Upon what subject?" asked Madame Danglars.

"The French ladies, madame. He has made up his mind to takea wife from Paris."

"A fine idea that of his," said Danglars, shrugging hisshoulders. Madame Danglars looked at her husband with anexpression which, at any other time, would have indicated astorm, but for the second time she controlled herself. "Thebaron appears thoughtful to-day," said Monte Cristo to her;"are they going to put him in the ministry?"

"Not yet, I think. More likely he has been speculating onthe Bourse, and has lost money."

"M. and Madame de Villefort," cried Baptistin. They entered.M. de Villefort, notwithstanding his self-control, wasvisibly affected, and when Monte Cristo touched his hand, hefelt it tremble. "Certainly, women alone know how todissimulate," said Monte Cristo to himself, glancing atMadame Danglars, who was smiling on the procureur, andembracing his wife. After a short time, the count sawBertuccio, who, until then, had been occupied on the otherside of the house, glide into an adjoining room. He went tohim. "What do you want, M. Bertuccio?" said he.

"Your excellency his not stated the number of guests."

"Ah, true."

"How many covers?"

"Count for yourself."

"Is every one here, your excellency?"

"Yes."

Bertuccio glanced through the door, which was ajar. Thecount watched him. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed.

"What is the matter?" said the count.

"That woman - that woman!"

"Which?"

"The one with a white dress and so many diamonds - the fairone."

"Madame Danglars?"

"I do not know her name; but it is she, sir, it is she!"

"Whom do you mean?"

"The woman of the garden! - she that was enciente - shewho was walking while she waited for" - Bertuccio stood atthe open door, with his eyes starting and his hair on end.

"Waiting for whom?" Bertuccio, without answering, pointed toVillefort with something of the gesture Macbeth uses topoint out Banquo. "Oh, oh," he at length muttered, "do yousee?"

"What? Who?"

"Him!"

"Him! - M. de Villefort, the king's attorney? Certainly Isee him."

"Then I did not kill him?"

"Really, I think you are going mad, good Bertuccio," saidthe count.

"Then he is not dead?"

"No; you see plainly he is not dead. Instead of strikingbetween the sixth and seventh left ribs, as your countrymendo, you must have struck higher or lower, and life is verytenacious in these lawyers, or rather there is no truth inanything you have told me - it was a fright of theimagination, a dream of your fancy. You went to sleep fullof thoughts of vengeance; they weighed heavily upon yourstomach; you had the nightmare - that's all. Come, calmyourself, and reckon them up - M. and Madame de Villefort,two; M. and Madame Danglars, four; M. de Chateau-Renaud, M.Debray, M. Morrel, seven; Major Bartolomeo Cavalcanti,eight."

"Eight!" repeated Bertuccio.

"Stop! You are in a shocking hurry to be off - you forgetone of my guests. Lean a little to the left. Stay! look atM. Andrea Cavalcanti, the young man in a black coat, lookingat Murillo's Madonna; now he is turning." This timeBertuccio would have uttered an exclamation, had not a lookfrom Monte Cristo silenced him. "Benedetto?" he muttered;"fatality!"

"Half-past six o'clock has just struck, M. Bertuccio," saidthe count severely; "I ordered dinner at that hour, and I donot like to wait;" and he returned to his guests, whileBertuccio, leaning against the wall, succeeded in reachingthe dining-room. Five minutes afterwards the doors of the.drawing-room were thrown open, and Bertuccio appearing said,with a violent effort, "The dinner waits."

The Count of Monte Cristo offered his arm to Madame deVillefort. "M. de Villefort," he said, "will you conduct theBaroness Danglars?"

Villefort complied, and they passed on to the dining-room.