“Certainly I will.”
“My carriage shall take you back.”
“No, thank you; I gave orders for my coupe to follow me.”
“There it is, then,” said Monte Cristo, as he stepped out of the carriage. They both went into the house; the drawing-room was lighted up — they went in there. “You will make tea for us, Baptistin,” said the count. Baptistin left the room without waiting to answer, and in two seconds reappeared, bringing on a waiter all that his master had ordered, ready prepared, and appearing to have sprung from the ground, like the repasts which we read of in fairy tales. “Really, my dear count,” said Morcerf. “what I admire in you is, not so much your riches, for perhaps there are people even wealthier than yourself, nor is it only your wit, for Beaumarchais might have possessed as much, — but it is your manner of being served, without any questions, in a moment, in a second; it is as it they guessed what you wanted by your manner of ringing, and made a point of keeping everything you can possibly desire in constant readiness.”
“What you say is perhaps true; they know my habits. For instance, you shall see; how do you wish to occupy yourself during tea-time?”
“Ma foi, I should like to smoke.”
Monte Cristo took the gong and struck it once. In about the space of a second a private door opened, and Ali appeared, bringing two chibouques filled with excellent latakia. “It is quite wonderful,” said Albert.
“Oh no, it is as simple as possible,” replied Monte Cristo. “Ali knows I generally smoke while I am taking my tea or coffee; he has heard that I ordered tea, and he also knows that I brought you home with me; when I summoned him he naturally guessed the reason of my doing so, and as he comes from a country where hospitality is especially manifested through the medium of smoking, he naturally concludes that we shall smoke in company, and therefore brings two chibouques instead of one — and now the mystery is solved.”
“Certainly you give a most commonplace air to your explanation, but it is not the less true that you — Ah, but what do I hear?” and Morcerf inclined his head towards the door, through which sounds seemed to issue resembling those of a guitar.
“Ma foi, my dear viscount, you are fated to hear music this evening; you have only escaped from Mademoiselle Danglars’ piano, to be attacked by Haidee’s guzla.”
“Haidee — what an adorable name! Are there, then, really women who bear the name of Haidee anywhere but in Byron’s poems?”
“Certainly there are. Haidee is a very uncommon name in France, but is common enough in Albania and Epirus; it is as it you said, for example, Chastity, Modesty, Innocence, — it is a kind of baptismal name, as you Parisians call it.”
“Oh, that is charming,” said Albert, “how I should like to hear my countrywomen called Mademoiselle Goodness, Mademoiselle Silence, Mademoiselle Christian Charity! Only think, then, if Mademoiselle Danglars, instead of being called Claire-Marie-Eugenie, had been named Mademoiselle Chastity-Modesty-Innocence Danglars; what a fine effect that would have produced on the announcement of her marriage!”
“Hush,” said the count, “do not joke in so loud a tone; Haidee may hear you, perhaps.”
“And you think she would be angry?”
“No, certainly not,” said the count with a haughty expression.
“She is very amiable, then, is she not?” said Albert.
“It is not to be called amiability, it is her duty; a slave does not dictate to a master.”
“Come; you are joking yourself now. Are there any more slaves to be had who bear this beautiful name?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Really, count, you do nothing, and have nothing like other people. The slave of the Count of Monte Cristo! Why, it is a rank of itself in France, and from the way in which you lavish money, it is a place that must be worth a hundred thousand francs a year.”
“A hundred thousand francs! The poor girl originally possessed much more than that; she was born to treasures in comparison with which those recorded in the ‘Thousand and One Nights’ would seem but poverty.”