foreigner who could afford to give 20,000 francs
apiece for his horses. The house Ali had chosen, and which was to serve
as a town residence to Monte Cristo, was situated on the right hand as
you ascend the Champs Elysees. A thick clump of trees and shrubs rose in
the centre, and masked a portion of the front; around this shrubbery
two alleys, like two arms, extended right and left, and formed a
carriage-drive from the iron gates to a double portico, on every step of
which stood a porcelain vase, filled with flowers. This house, isolated
from the rest, had, besides the main entrance, another in the Rue
Ponthieu. Even before the coachman had hailed the concierge, the massy
gates rolled on their hinges--they had seen the Count coming, and at
Paris, as everywhere else, he was served with the rapidity of lightning.
The coachman entered and traversed the half-circle without slackening
his speed, and the gates were closed ere the wheels had ceased to sound
on the gravel. The carriage stopped at the left side of the portico, two
men presented themselves at the carriage-window; the one was Ali, who,
smiling with an expression of the most sincere joy, seemed amply repaid
by a mere look from Monte Cristo. The other bowed respectfully,
and offered his arm to assist the count in descending. "Thanks, M.
Bertuccio," said the count, springing lightly up the three steps of the
portico; "and the notary?"

"He is in the small salon, excellency," returned Bertuccio.

"And the cards I ordered to be engraved as soon as you knew the number
of the house?"

"Your excellency, it is done already. I have been myself to the best
engraver of the Palais Royal, who did the plate in my presence. The
first card struck off was taken, according to your orders, to the Baron
Danglars, Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin, No. 7; the others are on the
mantle-piece of your excellency's bedroom."

"Good; what o'clock is it?"

"Four o'clock." Monte Cristo gave his hat, cane, and gloves to the same
French footman who had called his carriage at the Count of Morcerf's,
and then he passed into the small salon, preceded by Bertuccio,
who showed him the way. "These are but indifferent marbles in this
ante-chamber," said Monte Cristo. "I trust all this will soon be taken
away." Bertuccio bowed. As the steward had said, the notary awaited him
in the small salon. He was a simple-looking lawyer's clerk, elevated to
the extraordinary dignity of a provincial scrivener. "You ar