“I have just received my courier from Greece,” said Danglars.
“Ah, yes,” said the count; “that was the reason of your running away from us.”
“Yes.”
“How is King Otho getting on?” asked Albert in the most sprightly tone.
Danglars cast another suspicious look towards him without answering, and Monte Cristo turned away to conceal the expression of pity which passed over his features, but which was gone in a moment.
“We shall go together, shall we not?” said Albert to the count.
“If you like,” replied the latter.
Albert could not understand the banker’s look, and turning to Monte Cristo, who understood it perfectly,—“Did you see,” said he, “how he looked at me?”
“Yes,” said the count; “but did you think there was anything particular in his look?”
“Indeed, I did; and what does he mean by his news from Greece?”
“How can I tell you?”
“Because I imagine you have correspondents in that country.”
Monte Cristo smiled significantly.
“Stop,” said Albert, “here he comes. I shall compliment Mademoiselle Danglars on her cameo, while the father talks to you.”
“If you compliment her at all, let it be on her voice, at least,” said Monte Cristo.
“No, everyone would do that.”
“My dear viscount, you are dreadfully impertinent.”
Albert advanced towards Eugénie, smiling.
Meanwhile, Danglars, stooping to Monte Cristo’s ear, “Your advice was excellent,” said he; “there is a whole history connected with the names Fernand and Yanina.”
“Indeed?” said Monte Cristo.
“Yes, I will tell you all; but take away the young man; I cannot endure his presence.”