“Oh, no,” said Morrel; “my sister is five and twenty, my brother-in-law is thirty, they are gay, young, and happy. Besides, the count will be in his own house, and only see them when he thinks fit to do so.”
“Thanks, monsieur,” said Monte Cristo; “I shall content myself with being presented to your sister and her husband, if you will do me the honor to introduce me; but I cannot accept the offer of any one of these gentlemen, since my habitation is already prepared.”
“What,” cried Morcerf; “you are, then, going to an hotel — that will be very dull for you.”
“Was I so badly lodged at Rome?” said Monte Cristo smiling.
“Parbleu, at Rome you spent fifty thousand piastres in furnishing your apartments, but I presume that you are not disposed to spend a similar sum every day.”
“It is not that which deterred me,” replied Monte Cristo; “but as I determined to have a house to myself, I sent on my valet de chambre, and he ought by this time to have bought the house and furnished it.”
“But you have, then, a valet de chambre who knows Paris?” said Beauchamp.
“It is the first time he has ever been in Paris. He is black, and cannot speak,” returned Monte Cristo.
“It is Ali!” cried Albert, in the midst of the general surprise.
“Yes, Ali himself, my Nubian mute, whom you saw, I think, at Rome.”
“Certainly,” said Morcerf; “I recollect him perfectly. But how could you charge a Nubian to purchase a house, and a mute to furnish it? — he will do everything wrong.”
“Undeceive yourself, monsieur,” replied Monte Cristo; “I am quite sure, that, on the contrary, he will choose everything as I wish. He knows my tastes, my caprices, my wants. He has been here a week, with the instinct of a hound, hunting by himself. He will arrange everything for me. He knew, that I should arrive to-day at ten o’clock; he was waiting for me at nine at the Barriere de Fontainebleau. He gave me this paper; it contains the number of my new abode; read it yourself,” and Monte Cristo passed a paper to Albert. “Ah, that is really original,” said Beauchamp.
“And very princely,” added Chateau-Renaud.
“What, do you not know your house?” asked Debray.
“No,” said Monte Cristo; “I told you I did not wish to be behind my time; I dressed myself in the carriage, and descended at the viscount’s door.” The young men looked at each other; they did not know if it was a comedy Monte Cristo was playing, but every word he uttered had such an air of simplicity, that it was impossible to suppose what he said was false — besides, why should he tell a falsehood? “We must content ourselves, then,” said Beauchamp, “with rendering the count all the little services in our power. I, in my quality of journalist, open all the theatres to him.”
“Thanks, monsieur,” returned Monte Cristo, “my steward has orders to take a box at each theatre.”
“Is your steward also a Nubian?” asked Debray.
“No, he is a countryman of yours, if a Corsican is a countryman of any one’s. But you know him, M. de Morcerf.”
“Is it that excellent M. Bertuccio, who understands hiring windows so well?”
“Yes, you saw him the day I had the honor of receiving you; he has been a soldier, a smuggler — in fact, everything. I would not be quite sure that he has not been mixed up with the police for some trifle — a stab with a knife, for instance.”
“And you have chosen this honest citizen for your steward,” said Debray. “Of how much does he rob you every year?”
“On my word,” replied the count, “not more than another. I am sure he answers my purpose, knows no impossibility, and so I keep him.”
“Then,” continued Chateau-Renaud, “since you have an establishment, a steward, and a hotel in the Champs Elysees, you only want a mistress.” Albert smiled. He thought of the fair Greek he had seen in the count’s box at the Argentina and Valle theatres. “I have something better than that,” said Monte Cristo; “I have a slave. You procure your mistresses from the opera, the Vaudeville, or the Varietes; I purchased mine at Constantinople; it cost me more, but I have nothing to fear.”