her apartments, while the count retired to the
pavilion reserved for himself. In another hour every light in the house
was extinguished, and it might have been thought that all its inmates
slept.

Chapter 46. Unlimited Credit.

About two o'clock the following day a calash, drawn by a pair of
magnificent English horses, stopped at the door of Monte Cristo and a
person, dressed in a blue coat, with buttons of a similar color, a
white waistcoat, over which was displayed a massive gold chain, brown
trousers, and a quantity of black hair descending so low over his
eyebrows as to leave it doubtful whether it were not artificial so
little did its jetty glossiness assimilate with the deep wrinkles
stamped on his features--a person, in a word, who, although evidently
past fifty, desired to be taken for not more than forty, bent forwards
from the carriage door, on the panels of which were emblazoned the
armorial bearings of a baron, and directed his groom to inquire at the
porter's lodge whether the Count of Monte Cristo resided there, and if
he were within. While waiting, the occupant of the carriage surveyed the
house, the garden as far as he could distinguish it, and the livery
of servants who passed to and fro, with an attention so close as to be
somewhat impertinent. His glance was keen but showed cunning rather than
intelligence; his lips were straight, and so thin that, as they closed,
they were drawn in over the teeth; his cheek-bones were broad and
projecting, a never-failing proof of audacity and craftiness; while the
flatness of his forehead, and the enlargement of the back of his skull,
which rose much higher than his large and coarsely shaped ears, combined
to form a physiognomy anything but prepossessing, save in the eyes of
such as considered that the owner of so splendid an equipage must needs
be all that was admirable and enviable, more especially when they gazed
on the enormous diamond that glittered in his shirt, and the red ribbon
that depended from his button-hole.

The groom, in obedience to his orders, tapped at the window of the
porter's lodge, saying, "Pray, does not the Count of Monte Cristo live
here?"

"His excellency does reside here," replied the concierge; "but"--added
he, glancing an inquiring look at Ali. Ali returned a sign in the
negative. "But what?" asked the groom.

"His excellency does not receive visitors to-day."

"Then here is my master's card,--the Baron Danglars. You will ta