Chapter 47. The Dappled Grays
The baron, followed by the count, traversed a long series of apartments,in which the prevailing characteristics were heavy magnificence and thegaudiness of ostentatious wealth, until he reached the boudoir of MadameDanglars—a small octagonal-shaped room, hung with pink satin, coveredwith white Indian muslin. The chairs were of ancient workmanship andmaterials; over the doors were painted sketches of shepherds andshepherdesses, after the style and manner of Boucher; and at each sidepretty medallions in crayons, harmonizing well with the furnishings ofthis charming apartment, the only one throughout the great mansion inwhich any distinctive taste prevailed. The truth was, it had beenentirely overlooked in the plan arranged and followed out by M. Danglarsand his architect, who had been selected to aid the baron in the greatwork of improvement solely because he was the most fashionable andcelebrated decorator of the day. The decorations of the boudoir had thenbeen left entirely to Madame Danglars and Lucien Debray. M. Danglars,however, while possessing a great admiration for the antique, as it wasunderstood during the time of the Directory, entertained the mostsovereign contempt for the simple elegance of his wife’s favoritesitting-room, where, by the way, he was never permitted to intrude,unless, indeed, he excused his own appearance by ushering in some moreagreeable visitor than himself; and even then he had rather the air andmanner of a person who was himself introduced, than that of being thepresenter of another, his reception being cordial or frigid, inproportion as the person who accompanied him chanced to please ordisplease the baroness.
Madame Danglars (who, although past the first bloom of youth, was stillstrikingly handsome) was now seated at the piano, a most elaborate pieceof cabinet and inlaid work, while Lucien Debray, standing before a smallwork-table, was turning over the pages of an album.
Lucien had found time, preparatory to the count’s arrival, to relatemany particulars respecting him to Madame Danglars. It will beremembered that Monte Cristo had made a lively impression on the mindsof all the party assembled at the breakfast given by Albert de Morcerf;and although Debray was not in the habit of yielding to such feelings,he had never been able to shake off the powerful influence excited inhis mind by the impressive look and manner of the count, consequentlythe description given by Lucien to the baroness bore the highly-coloredtinge of his own heated imagination. Already excited by the wonderfulstories related of the count by de Morcerf, it is no wonder that MadameDanglars eagerly listened to, and fully credited, all the additionalcircumstances detailed by Debray. This posing at the piano and over thealbum was only a little ruse adopted by way of precaution. A mostgracious welcome and unusual smile were bestowed on M. Danglars; thecount, in return for his gentlemanly bow, received a formal thoughgraceful courtesy, while Lucien exchanged with the count a sort ofdistant recognition, and with Danglars a free and easy nod.
“Baroness,” said Danglars, “give me leave to present to you the Count ofMonte Cristo, who has been most warmly recommended to me by mycorrespondents at Rome. I need but mention one fact to make all theladies in Paris court his notice, and that is, that he has come to takeup his abode in Paris for a year, during which brief period he proposesto spend six millions of money. That means balls, dinners, and lawnparties without end, in all of which I trust the count will remember us,as he may depend upon it we shall him, in our own humbleentertainments.”
In spite of the gross flattery and coarseness of this address, MadameDanglars could not forbear gazing with considerable interest on a mancapable of expending six millions in twelve months, and who had selectedParis for the scene of his princely extravagance.
“And when did you arrive here?” inquired she.
“Yesterday morning, madame.”
“Coming, as usual, I presume, from the extreme end of the globe? Pardonme—at least, such I have heard is your custom.”
“Nay, madame. This time I have merely come from Cadiz.”
“You have selected a most unfavorable moment for your first visit. Parisis a horrible place in summer. Balls, parties, and fêtes are over; theItalian opera is in London; the French opera everywhere except in Paris.As for the Théatre Français, you know, of course, that it is nowhere.The only amusements left us are the indifferent races at the Champ-de-Mars and Satory. Do you propose entering any horses at either of theseraces, count?”
“I shall do whatever they do at Paris, madame, if I have the goodfortune to find someone who will initiate me into the prevalent ideas ofamusement.”
“Are you fond of horses, count?”
“I have passed a considerable part of my life in the East, madame, andyou are doubtless aware that the Orientals value only two things—thefine breeding of their horses and the beauty of their women.”
“Nay, count,” said the baroness, “it would have been somewhat moregallant to have placed the ladies first.”
“You see, madame, how rightly I spoke when I said I required a preceptorto guide me in all my sayings and doings here.”
At this instant the favorite attendant of Madame Danglars entered theboudoir; approaching her mistress, she spoke some words in an undertone.Madame Danglars turned very pale, then exclaimed:
“I cannot believe it; the thing is impossible.”
“I assure you, madame,” replied the woman, “it is as I have said.”
Turning impatiently towards her husband, Madame Danglars demanded, “Isthis true?”
“Is what true, madame?” inquired Danglars, visibly agitated.
“What my maid tells me.”
“But what does she tell you?”
“That when my coachman was about to harness the horses to my carriage,he discovered that they had been removed from the stables without hisknowledge. I desire to know what is the meaning of this?”
“Be kind enough, madame, to listen to me,” said Danglars.
“Oh, yes; I will listen, monsieur, for I am most curious to hear whatexplanation you will give. These two gentlemen shall decide between us;but, first, I will state the case to them. Gentlemen,” continued thebaroness, “among the ten horses in the stables of Baron Danglars, aretwo that belong exclusively to me—a pair of the handsomest and mostspirited creatures to be found in Paris. But to you, at least, M.Debray, I need not give a further description, because to you mybeautiful pair of dappled grays were well known. Well, I had promisedMadame de Villefort the loan of my carriage to drive tomorrow to theBois; but when my coachman goes to fetch the grays from the stables theyare gone—positively gone. No doubt M. Danglars has sacrificed them tothe selfish consideration of gaining some thousands of paltry francs.Oh, what a detestable crew they are, these mercenary speculators!”
“Madame,” replied Danglars, “the horses were not sufficiently quiet foryou; they were scarcely four years old, and they made me extremelyuneasy on your account.”
“Nonsense,” retorted the baroness; “you could not have entertained anyalarm on the subject, because you are perfectly well aware that I havehad for a month in my service the very best coachman in Paris. But,perhaps, you have disposed of the coachman as well as the horses?”
“My dear love, pray do not say any more about them, and I promise youanother pair exactly like them in appearance, only more quiet andsteady.”
The baroness shrugged her shoulders with an air of ineffable contempt,while her husband, affecting not to observe this unconjugal gesture,turned towards Monte Cristo and said,—“Upon my word, count, I am quitesorry not to have met you sooner. You are setting up an establishment,of course?”
“Why, yes,” replied the count.
“I should have liked to have made you the offer of these horses. I havealmost given them away, as it is; but, as I before said, I was anxiousto get rid of them upon any terms. They were only fit for a young man.”
“I am much obliged by your kind intentions towards me,” said MonteCristo; “but this morning I purchased a very excellent pair of carriage-horses, and I do not think they were dear. There they are. Come, M.Debray, you are a conn
oisseur, I believe, let me have your opinion uponthem.”
As Debray walked towards the window, Danglars approached his wife.
“I could not tell you before others,” said he in a low tone, “the reasonof my parting with the horses; but a most enormous price was offered methis morning for them. Some madman or fool, bent upon ruining himself asfast as he can, actually sent his steward to me to purchase them at anycost; and the fact is, I have gained 16,000 francs by the sale of them.Come, don’t look so angry, and you shall have 4,000 francs of the moneyto do what you like with, and Eugénie shall have 2,000. There, what doyou think now of the affair? Wasn’t I right to part with the horses?”
Madame Danglars surveyed her husband with a look of withering contempt.
“Great heavens?” suddenly exclaimed Debray.
“What is it?” asked the baroness.
“I cannot be mistaken; there are your horses! The very animals we werespeaking of, harnessed to the count’s carriage!”
“My dappled grays?” demanded the baroness, springing to the window.“’Tis indeed they!” said she.
Danglars looked absolutely stupefied.
“How very singular,” cried Monte Cristo with well-feigned astonishment.
“I cannot believe it,” murmured the banker. Madame Danglars whispered afew words in the ear of Debray, who approached Monte Cristo, saying,“The baroness wishes to know what you paid her husband for the horses.”
“I scarcely know,” replied the count; “it was a little surprise preparedfor me by my steward, and cost me—well, somewhere about 30,000 francs.”
Debray conveyed the count’s reply to the baroness. Poor Danglars lookedso crest-fallen and discomfited that Monte Cristo assumed a pitying airtowards him.
“See,” said the count, “how very ungrateful women are. Your kindattention, in providing for the safety of the baroness by disposing ofthe horses, does not seem to have made the least impression on her. Butso it is; a woman will often, from mere wilfulness, prefer that which isdangerous to that which is safe. Therefore, in my opinion, my dearbaron, the best and easiest way is to leave them to their fancies, andallow them to act as they please, and then, if any mischief follows,why, at least, they have no one to blame but themselves.”
Danglars made no reply; he was occupied in anticipations of the comingscene between himself and the baroness, whose frowning brow, like thatof Olympic Jove, predicted a storm. Debray, who perceived the gatheringclouds, and felt no desire to witness the explosion of Madame Danglars’rage, suddenly recollected an appointment, which compelled him to takehis leave; while Monte Cristo, unwilling by prolonging his stay todestroy the advantages he hoped to obtain, made a farewell bow anddeparted, leaving Danglars to endure the angry reproaches of his wife.
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“Excellent,” murmured Monte Cristo to himself, as he came away. “All hasgone according to my wishes. The domestic peace of this family ishenceforth in my hands. Now, then, to play another master-stroke, bywhich I shall gain the heart of both husband and wife—delightful!Still,” added he, “amid all this, I have not yet been presented toMademoiselle Eugénie Danglars, whose acquaintance I should have beenglad to make. But,” he went on with his peculiar smile, “I am here inParis, and have plenty of time before me—by and by will do for that.”
With these reflections he entered his carriage and returned home. Twohours afterwards, Madame Danglars received a most flattering epistlefrom the count, in which he entreated her to receive back her favorite“dappled grays,” protesting that he could not endure the idea of makinghis entry into the Parisian world of fashion with the knowledge that hissplendid equipage had been obtained at the price of a lovely woman’sregrets. The horses were sent back wearing the same harness she had seenon them in the morning; only, by the count’s orders, in the centre ofeach rosette that adorned either side of their heads, had been fasteneda large diamond.
To Danglars Monte Cristo also wrote, requesting him to excuse thewhimsical gift of a capricious millionaire, and to beg the baroness topardon the Eastern fashion adopted in the return of the horses.
During the evening, Monte Cristo quitted Paris for Auteuil, accompaniedby Ali. The following day, about three o’clock, a single blow struck onthe gong summoned Ali to the presence of the count.
“Ali,” observed his master, as the Nubian entered the chamber, “you havefrequently explained to me how more than commonly skilful you are inthrowing the lasso, have you not?”
Ali drew himself up proudly, and then returned a sign in theaffirmative.
“I thought I did not mistake. With your lasso you could stop an ox?”
Again Ali repeated his affirmative gesture.
“Or a tiger?”
Ali bowed his head in token of assent.
“A lion even?”
Ali sprung forwards, imitating the action of one throwing the lasso,then of a strangled lion.
“I understand,” said Monte Cristo; “you wish to tell me you have huntedthe lion?”
Ali smiled with triumphant pride as he signified that he had indeed bothchased and captured many lions.
“But do you believe you could arrest the progress of two horses rushingforwards with ungovernable fury?”
The Nubian smiled.
“It is well,” said Monte Cristo. “Then listen to me. Ere long a carriagewill dash past here, drawn by the pair of dappled gray horses you saw mewith yesterday; now, at the risk of your own life, you must manage tostop those horses before my door.”
Ali descended to the street, and marked a straight line on the pavementimmediately at the entrance of the house, and then pointed out the linehe had traced to the count, who was watching him. The count patted himgently on the shoulder, his usual mode of praising Ali, who, pleased andgratified with the commission assigned him, walked calmly towards aprojecting stone forming the angle of the street and house, and, seatinghimself thereon, began to smoke his chibouque, while Monte Cristo re-entered his dwelling, perfectly assured of the success of his plan.
Still, as five o’clock approached, and the carriage was momentarilyexpected by the count, the indication of more than common impatience anduneasiness might be observed in his manner. He stationed himself in aroom commanding a view of the street, pacing the chamber with restlesssteps, stopping merely to listen from time to time for the sound ofapproaching wheels, then to cast an anxious glance on Ali; but theregularity with which the Nubian puffed forth the smoke of his chibouqueproved that he at least was wholly absorbed in the enjoyment of hisfavorite occupation.
Suddenly a distant sound of rapidly advancing wheels was heard, andalmost immediately a carriage appeared, drawn by a pair of wild,ungovernable horses, while the terrified coachman strove in vain torestrain their furious speed.
In the vehicle was a young woman and a child of about seven or eightclasped in each other’s arms. Terror seemed to have deprived them evenof the power of uttering a cry. The carriage creaked and rattled as itflew over the rough stones, and the slightest obstacle under the wheelswould have caused disaster; but it kept on in the middle of the road,and those who saw it pass uttered cries of terror.
Ali suddenly cast aside his chibouque, drew the lasso from his pocket,threw it so skilfully as to catch the forelegs of the near horse in itstriple fold, and suffered himself to be dragged on for a few steps bythe violence of the shock, then the animal fell over on the pole, whichsnapped, and therefore prevented the other horse from pursuing its way.Gladly availing himself of this opportunity, the coachman leaped fromhis box; but Ali had promptly seized the nostrils of the second horse,and held them in his iron grasp, till the beast, snorting with pain,sunk beside his companion.
All this was achieved in much less time than is occupied in the recital.The brief space had, however, been sufficient for a man, followed by anumber of servants, to rush from the house before which the accident hadoccurred, and, as the coachman opened the door of the carriage, to takefrom it a lady who was convulsively grasping the cushions w
ith one hand,while with the other she pressed to her bosom the young boy, who hadlost consciousness. Monte Cristo carried them both to the salon, anddeposited them on a sofa.
“Compose yourself, madame,” said he; “all danger is over.” The womanlooked up at these words, and, with a glance far more expressive thanany entreaties could have been, pointed to her child, who stillcontinued insensible. “I understand the nature of your alarms, madame,”said the count, carefully examining the child, “but I assure you thereis not the slightest occasion for uneasiness; your little charge has notreceived the least injury; his insensibility is merely the effects ofterror, and will soon pass.”
“Are you quite sure you do not say so to tranquillize my fears? See howdeadly pale he is! My child, my darling Edward; speak to yourmother—open your dear eyes and look on me once again! Oh, sir, in pitysend for a physician; my whole fortune shall not be thought too much forthe recovery of my boy.”
With a calm smile and a gentle wave of the hand, Monte Cristo signed tothe distracted mother to lay aside her apprehensions; then, opening acasket that stood near, he drew forth a phial of Bohemian glassincrusted with gold, containing a liquid of the color of blood, of whichhe let fall a single drop on the child’s lips. Scarcely had it reachedthem, ere the boy, though still pale as marble, opened his eyes, andeagerly gazed around him. At this, the delight of the mother was almostfrantic.
“Where am I?” exclaimed she; “and to whom am I indebted for so happy atermination to my late dreadful alarm?”
“Madame,” answered the count, “you are under the roof of one who esteemshimself most fortunate in having been able to save you from a furthercontinuance of your sufferings.”
“My wretched curiosity has brought all this about,” pursued the lady.“All Paris rung with the praises of Madame Danglars’ beautiful horses,and I had the folly to desire to know whether they really merited thehigh praise given to them.”
“Is it possible,” exclaimed the count with well-feigned astonishment,“that these horses belong to the baroness?”
“They do, indeed. May I inquire if you are acquainted with MadameDanglars?”
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“I have that honor; and my happiness at your escape from the danger thatthreatened you is redoubled by the consciousness that I have been theunwilling and the unintentional cause of all the peril you haveincurred. I yesterday purchased these horses of the baron; but as thebaroness evidently regretted parting with them, I ventured to send themback to her, with a request that she would gratify me by accepting themfrom my hands.”
“You are, then, doubtless, the Count of Monte Cristo, of whom Herminehas talked to me so much?”
“You have rightly guessed, madame,” replied the count.
“And I am Madame Héloïse de Villefort.”
The count bowed with the air of a person who hears a name for the firsttime.
“How grateful will M. de Villefort be for all your goodness; howthankfully will he acknowledge that to you alone he owes the existenceof his wife and child! Most certainly, but for the prompt assistance ofyour intrepid servant, this dear child and myself must both haveperished.”
“Indeed, I still shudder at the fearful danger you were placed in.”
“I trust you will allow me to recompense worthily the devotion of yourman.”
“I beseech you, madame,” replied Monte Cristo “not to spoil Ali, eitherby too great praise or rewards. I cannot allow him to acquire the habitof expecting to be recompensed for every trifling service he may render.Ali is my slave, and in saving your life he was but discharging his dutyto me.”
“Nay,” interposed Madame de Villefort, on whom the authoritative styleadopted by the count made a deep impression, “nay, but consider that topreserve my life he has risked his own.”
“His life, madame, belongs not to him; it is mine, in return for myhaving myself saved him from death.”
Madame de Villefort made no further reply; her mind was utterly absorbedin the contemplation of the person who, from the first instant she sawhim, had made so powerful an impression on her.
During the evident preoccupation of Madame de Villefort, Monte Cristoscrutinized the features and appearance of the boy she kept folded inher arms, lavishing on him the most tender endearments. The child wassmall for his age, and unnaturally pale. A mass of straight black hair,defying all attempts to train or curl it, fell over his projectingforehead, and hung down to his shoulders, giving increased vivacity toeyes already sparkling with a youthful love of mischief and fondness forevery forbidden enjoyment. His mouth was large, and the lips, which hadnot yet regained their color, were particularly thin; in fact, the deepand crafty look, giving a predominant expression to the child’s face,belonged rather to a boy of twelve or fourteen than to one so young. Hisfirst movement was to free himself by a violent push from the encirclingarms of his mother, and to rush forward to the casket from whence thecount had taken the phial of elixir; then, without asking permission ofanyone, he proceeded, in all the wilfulness of a spoiled childunaccustomed to restrain either whims or caprices, to pull the corks outof all the bottles.
“Touch nothing, my little friend,” cried the count eagerly; “some ofthose liquids are not only dangerous to taste, but even to inhale.”
Madame de Villefort became very pale, and, seizing her son’s arm, drewhim anxiously toward her; but, once satisfied of his safety, she alsocast a brief but expressive glance on the casket, which was not lostupon the count. At this moment Ali entered. At sight of him Madame deVillefort uttered an expression of pleasure, and, holding the childstill closer towards her, she said:
“Edward, dearest, do you see that good man? He has shown very greatcourage and resolution, for he exposed his own life to stop the horsesthat were running away with us, and would certainly have dashed thecarriage to pieces. Thank him, then, my child, in your very best manner;for, had he not come to our aid, neither you nor I would have been aliveto speak our thanks.”
The child stuck out his lips and turned away his head in a disdainfulmanner, saying, “He’s too ugly.”
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The count smiled as if the child bade fair to realize his hopes, whileMadame de Villefort reprimanded her son with a gentleness and moderationvery far from conveying the least idea of a fault having been committed.
“This lady,” said the Count, speaking to Ali in the Arabic language, “isdesirous that her son should thank you for saving both their lives; butthe boy refuses, saying you are too ugly.”
Ali turned his intelligent countenance towards the boy, on whom he gazedwithout any apparent emotion; but the spasmodic working of the nostrilsshowed to the practiced eye of Monte Cristo that the Arab had beenwounded to the heart.
“Will you permit me to inquire,” said Madame de Villefort, as she aroseto take her leave, “whether you usually reside here?”
“No, I do not,” replied Monte Cristo; “it is a small place I havepurchased quite lately. My place of abode is No. 30, Avenue des Champs-Élysées; but I see you have quite recovered from your fright, and are,no doubt, desirous of returning home. Anticipating your wishes, I havedesired the same horses you came with to be put to one of my carriages,and Ali, he whom you think so very ugly,” continued he, addressing theboy with a smiling air, “will have the honor of driving you home, whileyour coachman remains here to attend to the necessary repairs of yourcalash. As soon as that important business is concluded, I will have apair of my own horses harnessed to convey it direct to Madame Danglars.”
“I dare not return with those dreadful horses,” said Madame deVillefort.
“You will see,” replied Monte Cristo, “that they will be as different aspossible in the hands of Ali. With him they will be gentle and docile aslambs.”
Ali had, indeed, given proof of this; for, approaching the animals, whohad been got upon their legs with considerable difficulty, he rubbedtheir foreheads and nostrils with a sponge soaked in aromatic vinegar,and wiped off the sweat and foam that covered their
mouths. Then,commencing a loud whistling noise, he rubbed them well all over theirbodies for several minutes; then, undisturbed by the noisy crowdcollected round the broken carriage, Ali quietly harnessed the pacifiedanimals to the count’s chariot, took the reins in his hands, and mountedthe box, when to the utter astonishment of those who had witnessed theungovernable spirit and maddened speed of the same horses, he wasactually compelled to apply his whip in no very gentle manner before hecould induce them to start; and even then all that could be obtainedfrom the celebrated “dappled grays,” now changed into a couple of dull,sluggish, stupid brutes, was a slow, pottering pace, kept up with somuch difficulty that Madame de Villefort was more than two hoursreturning to her residence in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré.
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Scarcely had the first congratulations upon her marvellous escape beengone through when she wrote the following letter to Madame Danglars:—
“Dear Hermine,—I have just had a wonderful escape from the most imminentdanger, and I owe my safety to the very Count of Monte Cristo we weretalking about yesterday, but whom I little expected to see today. Iremember how unmercifully I laughed at what I considered your eulogisticand exaggerated praises of him; but I have now ample cause to admit thatyour enthusiastic description of this wonderful man fell far short ofhis merits. Your horses got as far as Ranelagh, when they darted forwardlike mad things, and galloped away at so fearful a rate, that thereseemed no other prospect for myself and my poor Edward but that of beingdashed to pieces against the first object that impeded their progress,when a strange-looking man,—an Arab, a negro, or a Nubian, at least ablack of some nation or other—at a signal from the count, whose domestiche is, suddenly seized and stopped the infuriated animals, even at therisk of being trampled to death himself; and certainly he must have hada most wonderful escape. The count then hastened to us, and took us intohis house, where he speedily recalled my poor Edward to life. He sent ushome in his own carriage. Yours will be returned to you tomorrow. Youwill find your horses in bad condition, from the results of thisaccident; they seem thoroughly stupefied, as if sulky and vexed athaving been conquered by man. The count, however, has commissioned me toassure you that two or three days’ rest, with plenty of barley for theirsole food during that time, will bring them back to as fine, that is asterrifying, a condition as they were in yesterday.
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Adieu! I cannot return you many thanks for the drive of yesterday; but,after all, I ought not to blame you for the misconduct of your horses,more especially as it procured me the pleasure of an introduction to theCount of Monte Cristo,—and certainly that illustrious personage, apartfrom the millions he is said to be so very anxious to dispose of, seemedto me one of those curiously interesting problems I, for one, delight insolving at any risk, even if it were to necessitate another drive to theBois behind your horses.
Edward endured the accident with miraculous courage—he did not utter asingle cry, but fell lifeless into my arms; nor did a tear fall from hiseyes after it was over. I doubt not you will consider these praises theresult of blind maternal affection, but there is a soul of iron in thatdelicate, fragile body. Valentine sends many affectionate remembrancesto your dear Eugénie. I embrace you with all my heart.
Héloïse de Villefort.
P.S.—Do pray contrive some means for me to meet the Count of MonteCristo at your house. I must and will see him again. I have just made M.de Villefort promise to call on him, and I hope the visit will bereturned.
That night the adventure at Auteuil was talked of everywhere. Albertrelated it to his mother; Château-Renaud recounted it at the JockeyClub, and Debray detailed it at length in the salons of the minister;even Beauchamp accorded twenty lines in his journal to the relation ofthe count’s courage and gallantry, thereby celebrating him as thegreatest hero of the day in the eyes of all the feminine members of thearistocracy.
Vast was the crowd of visitors and inquiring friends who left theirnames at the residence of Madame de Villefort, with the design ofrenewing their visit at the right moment, of hearing from her lips allthe interesting circumstances of this most romantic adventure.
As for M. de Villefort, he fulfilled the predictions of Héloïse to theletter,—donned his dress suit, drew on a pair of white gloves, orderedthe servants to attend the carriage dressed in their full livery, anddrove that same night to No. 30 in the Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
VOLUME THREE
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