“Then you will dispute the more.”
“M. Beauchamp,” announced the servant. “Come in, come in,” said Albert, rising and advancing to meet the young man. “Here is Debray, who detests you without reading you, so he says.”
“He is quite right,” returned Beauchamp; “for I criticise him without knowing what he does. Good-day, commander!”
“Ah, you know that already,” said the private secretary, smiling and shaking hands with him.
“Pardieu!”
“And what do they say of it in the world?”
“In which world? we have so many worlds in the year of grace 1838.”
“In the entire political world, of which you are one of the leaders.”
“They say that it is quite fair, and that sowing so much red, you ought to reap a little blue.”
“Come, come, that is not bad!” said Lucien. “Why do you not join our party, my dear Beauchamp? With your talents you would make your fortune in three or four years.”
“I only await one thing before following your advice; that is, a minister who will hold office for six months. My dear Albert, one word, for I must give poor Lucien a respite. Do we breakfast or dine? I must go to the Chamber, for our life is not an idle one.”
“You only breakfast; I await two persons, and the instant they arrive we shall sit down to table.”
Chapter 41. The Presentation
When Albert found himself alone with Monte Cristo, “My dear count,” said he, “allow me to commence my services as cicerone by showing you a specimen of a bachelor’s apartment. You, who are accustomed to the palaces of Italy, can amuse yourself by calculating in how many square feet a young man who is not the worst lodged in Paris can live. As we pass from one room to another, I will open the windows to let you breathe.”