nte Cristo, rising as he spoke--"I am gallant enough to
offer it you."

"How kind you are."

"Only remember one thing--a small dose is a remedy, a large one is
poison. One drop will restore life, as you have seen; five or six will
inevitably kill, and in a way the more terrible inasmuch as, poured into
a glass of wine, it would not in the slightest degree affect its flavor.
But I say no more, madame; it is really as if I were prescribing for
you." The clock struck half-past six, and a lady was announced, a friend
of Madame de Villefort, who came to dine with her.

"If I had had the honor of seeing you for the third or fourth time,
count, instead of only for the second," said Madame de Villefort; "if
I had had the honor of being your friend, instead of only having the
happiness of being under an obligation to you, I should insist on
detaining you to dinner, and not allow myself to be daunted by a first
refusal."

"A thousand thanks, madame," replied Monte Cristo "but I have an
engagement which I cannot break. I have promised to escort to the
Academie a Greek princess of my acquaintance who has never seen your
grand opera, and who relies on me to conduct her thither."

"Adieu, then, sir, and do not forget the prescription."

"Ah, in truth, madame, to do that I must forget the hour's conversation
I have had with you, which is indeed impossible." Monte Cristo bowed,
and left the house. Madame de Villefort remained immersed in thought.
"He is a very strange man," she said, "and in my opinion is himself the
Adelmonte he talks about." As to Monte Cristo the result had surpassed
his utmost expectations. "Good," said he, as he went away; "this is a
fruitful soil, and I feel certain that the seed sown will not be cast
on barren ground." Next morning, faithful to his promise, he sent the
prescription requested.

Chapter 53. Robert le Diable.

The pretext of an opera engagement was so much the more feasible, as
there chanced to be on that very night a more than ordinary attraction
at the Academie Royale. Levasseur, who had been suffering under severe
illness, made his reappearance in the character of Bertrand, and, as
usual, the announcement of the most admired production of the favorite
composer of the day had attracted a brilliant and fashionable audience.
Morcerf, like most other young men of rank and fortune, had his
orchestra stall, with the certainty of always finding a seat in at least
a dozen of the principal