“The 21st of May, at half-past ten in the morning, Rue du Helder, No. 27,” replied the count.
The young men then rose, and bowing to the count, quitted the room.
“What is the matter?” asked Albert of Franz, when they had returned to their own apartments; “you seem more than commonly thoughtful.”
“I will confess to you, Albert,” replied Franz, “the count is a very singular person, and the appointment you have made to meet him in Paris fills me with a thousand apprehensions.”
“My dear fellow,” exclaimed Albert, “what can there possibly be in that to excite uneasiness? Why, you must have lost your senses.”
“Whether I am in my senses or not,” answered Franz, “that is the way I feel.”
“Listen to me, Franz,” said Albert; “I am glad that the occasion has presented itself for saying this to you, for I have noticed how cold you are in your bearing towards the count, while he, on the other hand, has always been courtesy itself to us. Have you anything particular against him?”
“Possibly.”
“Did you ever meet him previously to coming hither?”
“I have.”
“And where?”
“Will you promise me not to repeat a single word of what I am about to tell you?”
“I promise.”
“Upon your honor?”
“Upon my honor.”
“Then listen to me.”
Franz then related to his friend the history of his excursion to the Island of Monte Cristo and of his finding a party of smugglers there, and the two Corsican bandits with them. He dwelt with considerable force and energy on the almost magical hospitality he had received from the count, and the magnificence of his entertainment in the grotto of the Thousand and One Nights.