“Then the Countess G—— has returned to Paris, has she?” inquired the baroness.
“Is that she, mamma?” asked Eugénie; “almost opposite to us, with that profusion of beautiful light hair?”
“Yes,” said Madame Danglars, “that is she. Shall I tell you what you ought to do, Morcerf?”
“Command me, madame.”
“Well, then, you should go and bring your Count of Monte Cristo to us.”
“What for?” asked Eugénie.
“What for? Why, to converse with him, of course. Have you really no desire to meet him?”
“None whatever,” replied Eugénie.
“Strange child,” murmured the baroness.
“He will very probably come of his own accord,” said Morcerf. “There; do you see, madame, he recognizes you, and bows.”
The baroness returned the salute in the most smiling and graceful manner.
“Well,” said Morcerf, “I may as well be magnanimous, and tear myself away to forward your wishes. Adieu; I will go and try if there are any means of speaking to him.”
“Go straight to his box; that will be the simplest plan.”
“But I have never been presented.”
“Presented to whom?”
“To the beautiful Greek.”
“You say she is only a slave?”
“While you assert that she is a queen, or at least a princess. No; I hope that when he sees me leave you, he will come out.”
“That is possible—go.”
“I am going,” said Albert, as he made his parting bow.
Just as he was passing the count’s box, the door opened, and Monte Cristo came forth. After giving some directions to Ali, who stood in the lobby, the count took Albert’s arm. Carefully closing the box door, Ali placed himself before it, while a crowd of spectators assembled round the Nubian.