The Benedetto affair, as it was called at the Palais, and bypeople in general, had produced a tremendous sensation.Frequenting the Cafe de Paris, the Boulevard de Gand, andthe Bois de Boulogne, during his brief career of splendor,the false Cavalcanti had formed a host of acquaintances. Thepapers had related his various adventures, both as the manof fashion and the galley-slave; and as every one who hadbeen personally acquainted with Prince Andrea Cavalcantiexperienced a lively curiosity in his fate, they alldetermined to spare no trouble in endeavoring to witness thetrial of M. Benedetto for the murder of his comrade inchains. In the eyes of many, Benedetto appeared, if not avictim to, at least an instance of, the fallibility of thelaw. M. Cavalcanti, his father, had been seen in Paris, andit was expected that he would re-appear to claim theillustrious outcast. Many, also, who were not aware of thecircumstances attending his withdrawal from Paris, werestruck with the worthy appearance, the gentlemanly bearing,and the knowledge of the world displayed by the oldpatrician, who certainly played the nobleman very well, solong as he said nothing, and made no arithmeticalcalculations. As for the accused himself, many rememberedhim as being so amiable, so handsome, and so liberal, thatthey chose to think him the victim of some conspiracy, sincein this world large fortunes frequently excite themalevolence and jealousy of some unknown enemy. Every one,therefore, ran to the court; some to witness the sight,others to comment upon it. From seven o'clock in the morninga crowd was stationed at the iron gates, and an hour beforethe trial commenced the hall was full of the privileged.Before the entrance of the magistrates, and indeedfrequently afterwards, a court of justice, on days when someespecial trial is to take place, resembles a drawing-roomwhere many persons recognize each other and converse if theycan do so without losing their seats; or, if they areseparated by too great a number of lawyers, communicate bysigns.

It was one of the magnificent autumn days which make amendsfor a short summer; the clouds which M. de Villefort hadperceived at sunrise had all disappeared as if by magic, andone of the softest and most brilliant days of Septembershone forth in all its splendor.

Beauchamp, one of the kings of the press, and thereforeclaiming the right of a throne everywhere, was eyingeverybody through his monocle. He perceived Chateau-Renaudand Debray, who had just gained the good graces of asergeant-at-arms, and who had persuaded the latter to letthem stand before, instead of behind him, as they ought tohave done. The worthy sergeant had recognized the minister'ssecretary and the millionnaire, and, by way of paying extraattention to his noble neighbors, promised to keep theirplaces while they paid a visit to Beauchamp.

"Well," said Beauchamp, "we shall see our friend!"

"Yes, indeed!" replied Debray. "That worthy prince. Deucetake those Italian princes!"

"A man, too, who could boast of Dante for a genealogist, andcould reckon back to the `Divine Comedy.'"

"A nobility of the rope!" said Chateau-Renaudphlegmatically.

"He will be condemned, will he not?" asked Debray ofBeauchamp.

"My dear fellow, I think we should ask you that question;you know such news much better than we do. Did you see thepresident at the minister's last night?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"Something which will surprise you."

"Oh, make haste and tell me, then; it is a long time sincethat has happened."

"Well, he told me that Benedetto, who is considered aserpent of subtlety and a giant of cunning, is really but avery commonplace, silly rascal, and altogether unworthy ofthe experiments that will be made on his phrenologicalorgans after his death."

"Bah," said Beauchamp, "he played the prince very well."

"Yes, for you who detest those unhappy princes, Beauchamp,and are always delighted to find fault with them; but notfor me, who discover a gentleman by instinct, and who scentout an aristocratic family like a very bloodhound ofheraldry."

"Then you never believed in the principality?"

"Yes. - in the principality, but not in the prince."

"Not so bad," said Beauchamp; "still, I assure you, hepassed very well with many people; I saw him at theministers' houses."

"Ah, yes," said Chateau-Renaud. "The idea of thinkingministers understand anything about princes!"

"There is something in what you have just said," saidBeauchamp, laughing.

"But," said Debray to Beauchamp, "if I spoke to thepresident, you must have been with the procureur."

"It was an impossibility; for the last week M. de Villeforthas secluded himself. It is natural enough; this strangechain of domestic afflictions, followed by the no lessstrange death of his daughter" -

"Strange? What do you mean, Beauchamp?"

"Oh, yes; do you pretend that all this has been unobservedat the minister's?" said Beauchamp, placing his eye-glass inhis eye, where he tried to make it remain.

"My dear sir," said Chateau-Renaud, "allow me to tell youthat you do not understand that manoeuvre with the eye-glasshalf so well as Debray. Give him a lesson, Debray."

"Stay," said Beauchamp, "surely I am not deceived."

"What is it?"

"It is she!"

"Whom do you mean?"

"They said she had left."

"Mademoiselle Eugenie?" said Chateau-Renaud; "has shereturned?"

"No, but her mother."

"Madame Danglars? Nonsense! Impossible!" saidChateau-Renaud; "only ten days after the flight of herdaughter, and three days from the bankruptcy of herhusband?"

Debray colored slightly, and followed with his eyes thedirection of Beauchamp's glance. "Come," he said, "it isonly a veiled lady, some foreign princess, perhaps themother of Cavalcanti. But you were just speaking on a veryinteresting topic, Beauchamp."

"I?"

"Yes; you were telling us about the extraordinary death ofValentine."

"Ah, yes, so I was. But how is it that Madame de Villefortis not here?"

"Poor, dear woman," said Debray, "she is no doubt occupiedin distilling balm for the hospitals, or in making cosmeticsfor herself or friends. Do you know she spends two or threethousand crowns a year in this amusement? But I wonder sheis not here. I should have been pleased to see her, for Ilike her very much."

"And I hate her," said Chateau-Renaud.

"Why?"

"I do not know. Why do we love? Why do we hate? I detesther, from antipathy."

"Or, rather, by instinct."

"Perhaps so. But to return to what you were saying,Beauchamp."

"Well, do you know why they die so multitudinously at M. deVillefort's?"

"`Multitudinously'

"My good fellow, you'll find the word in Saint-Simon."

"But the thing itself is at M. de Villefort's; but let's getback to the subject."

"Talking of that," said Debray, "Madame was making inquiriesabout that house, which for the last three months has beenhung with black."

"Who is Madame?" asked Chateau-Renaud.

"The minister's wife, pardieu!"

"Oh, your pardon! I never visit ministers; I leave that tothe princes."

"Really, You were only before sparkling, but now you arebrilliant; take compassion on us, or, like Jupiter, you willwither us up."

"I will not speak again," said Chateau-Renaud; "pray havecompassion upon me, and do not take up every word I say."

"Come, let us endeavor to get to the end of our story,Beauchamp; I told you that yesterday Madame made inquiriesof me upon the subject; enlighten me, and I will thencommunicate my information to her."

"Well, gentlemen, the reason people die so multitudinously(I like the word) at M. de Villefort's is that there is anassassin in the house!" The two young men shuddered, for thesame idea had more than once occurred to them. "And who isthe assassin;" they asked together.

"Young Edward!" A burst of laughter from the auditors didnot in the least disconcert the speaker, who continued, - "Yes, gentlemen; Edward, the infant phenomenon, who is quitean adept in the art of killing."

"You are jesting."

"Not at all. I yesterday engaged a servant, who had justleft M. de Villefort - I intend sending him away to-morrow,for he eats so enormously, to make up for the fast imposedupon him by his terror in that house. Well, now listen."

"We are listening."

"It appears the dear child has obtained possession of abottle containing some drug, which he every now and thenuses against those who have displeased him. First, M. andMadame de Saint-Meran incurred his displeasure, so he pouredout three drops of his elixir - three drops weresufficient; then followed Barrois, the old servant of M.Noirtier, who sometimes rebuffed this little wretch - hetherefore received the same quantity of the elixir; the samehappened to Valentine, of whom he was jealous; he gave herthe same dose as the others, and all was over for her aswell as the rest."

"Why, what nonsense are you telling us?" saidChateau-Renaud.

"Yes, it is an extraordinary story," said Beauchamp; "is itnot?"

"It is absurd," said Debray.

"Ah," said Beauchamp, "you doubt me? Well, you can ask myservant, or rather him who will no longer be my servantto-morrow, it was the talk of the house."

"And this elixir, where is it? what is it?"

"The child conceals it."

"But where did he find it?"

"In his mother's laboratory."

"Does his mother then, keep poisons in her laboratory?"

"How can I tell? You are questioning me like a king'sattorney. I only repeat what I have been told, and like myinformant I can do no more. The poor devil would eatnothing, from fear."

"It is incredible!"

"No, my dear fellow, it is not at all incredible. You sawthe child pass through the Rue Richelieu last year, whoamused himself with killing his brothers and sisters bysticking pins in their ears while they slept. The generationwho follow us are very precocious."

"Come, Beauchamp," said Chateau-Renaud, "I will bet anythingyou do not believe a word of all you have been telling us."

"I do not see the Count of Monte Cristo here."

"He is worn out," said Debray; "besides, he could not wellappear in public, since he has been the dupe of theCavalcanti, who, it appears, presented themselves to himwith false letters of credit, and cheated him out of 100,000francs upon the hypothesis of this principality."

"By the way, M. de Chateau-Renaud," asked Beauchamp, "how isMorrel?"

"Ma foi, I have called three times without once seeing him.Still, his sister did not seem uneasy, and told me thatthough she had not seen him for two or three days, she wassure he was well."

"Ah, now I think of it, the Count of Monte Cristo cannotappear in the hall," said Beauchamp.

"Why not?"

"Because he is an actor in the drama."

"Has he assassinated any one, then?"

"No, on the contrary, they wished to assassinate him. Youknow that it was in leaving his house that M. de Caderoussewas murdered by his friend Benedetto. You know that thefamous waistcoat was found in his house, containing theletter which stopped the signature of the marriage-contract.Do you see the waistcoat? There it is, all blood-stained, onthe desk, as a testimony of the crime."

"Ah, very good."

"Hush, gentlemen, here is the court; let us go back to ourplaces." A noise was heard in the hall; the sergeant calledhis two patrons with an energetic "hem!" and the door-keeperappearing, called out with that shrill voice peculiar to hisorder, ever since the days of Beaumarchais, "The court,gentlemen!"