“But why have two of each sort?” asked Danglars.
“Merely because one might have died,” carelessly answered Monte Cristo.
“You are certainly an extraordinary man,” said Danglars; “and philosophers may well say it is a fine thing to be rich.”
“And to have ideas,” added Madame Danglars.
“Oh, do not give me credit for this, madame; it was done by the Romans, who much esteemed them, and Pliny relates that they sent slaves from Ostia to Rome, who carried on their heads fish which he calls the mulus, and which, from the description, must probably be the goldfish. It was also considered a luxury to have them alive, it being an amusing sight to see them die, for, when dying, they change color three or four times, and like the rainbow when it disappears, pass through all the prismatic shades, after which they were sent to the kitchen. Their agony formed part of their merit—if they were not seen alive, they were despised when dead.”
“Yes,” said Debray, “but then Ostia is only a few leagues from Rome.”
“True,” said Monte Cristo; “but what would be the use of living eighteen hundred years after Lucullus, if we can do no better than he could?”
The two Cavalcanti opened their enormous eyes, but had the good sense not to say anything.
“All this is very extraordinary,” said Château-Renaud; “still, what I admire the most, I confess, is the marvellous promptitude with which your orders are executed. Is it not true that you only bought this house five or six days ago?”