At these words, uttered with the most exquisite sweetness and politeness, Madame de Morcerf replied:
“It is very fortunate for my son, monsieur, that he found such a friend, and I thank God that things are thus.”
And Mercédès raised her fine eyes to heaven with so fervent an expression of gratitude, that the count fancied he saw tears in them. M. de Morcerf approached her.
“Madame,” said he. “I have already made my excuses to the count for quitting him, and I pray you to do so also. The sitting commences at two; it is now three, and I am to speak.”
“Go, then, and monsieur and I will strive our best to forget your absence,” replied the countess, with the same tone of deep feeling. “Monsieur,” continued she, turning to Monte Cristo, “will you do us the honor of passing the rest of the day with us?”
“Believe me, madame, I feel most grateful for your kindness, but I got out of my travelling carriage at your door this morning, and I am ignorant how I am installed in Paris, which I scarcely know; this is but a trifling inquietude, I know, but one that may be appreciated.”
“We shall have the pleasure another time,” said the countess; “you promise that?”
Monte Cristo inclined himself without answering, but the gesture might pass for assent.
“I will not detain you, monsieur,” continued the countess; “I would not have our gratitude become indiscreet or importunate.”
“My dear Count,” said Albert, “I will endeavor to return your politeness at Rome, and place my coupé at your disposal until your own be ready.”