"Of course," said the gardener, "but that does not make it the less
unpleasant. But, sir, once more I beg pardon; perhaps you are an officer
that I am detaining here." And he glanced timidly at the count's blue
coat.

"Calm yourself, my friend," said the count, with the smile which he made
at will either terrible or benevolent, and which now expressed only the
kindliest feeling; "I am not an inspector, but a traveller, brought
here by a curiosity he half repents of, since he causes you to lose your
time."

"Ah, my time is not valuable," replied the man with a melancholy smile.
"Still it belongs to government, and I ought not to waste it; but,
having received the signal that I might rest for an hour" (here he
glanced at the sun-dial, for there was everything in the enclosure of
Montlhery, even a sun-dial), "and having ten minutes before me, and my
strawberries being ripe, when a day longer--by-the-by, sir, do you think
dormice eat them?"

"Indeed, I should think not," replied Monte Cristo; "dormice are bad
neighbors for us who do not eat them preserved, as the Romans did."

"What? Did the Romans eat them?" said the gardener--"ate dormice?"

"I have read so in Petronius," said the count.

"Really? They can't be nice, though they do say 'as fat as a dormouse.'
It is not a wonder they are fat, sleeping all day, and only waking to
eat all night. Listen. Last year I had four apricots--they stole one, I
had one nectarine, only one--well, sir, they ate half of it on the wall;
a splendid nectarine--I never ate a better."

"You ate it?"

"That is to say, the half that was left--you understand; it was
exquisite, sir. Ah, those gentlemen never choose the worst morsels; like
Mere Simon's son, who has not chosen the worst strawberries. But this
year," continued the horticulturist, "I'll take care it shall not
happen, even if I should be forced to sit by the whole night to watch
when the strawberries are ripe." Monte Cristo had seen enough. Every man
has a devouring passion in his heart, as every fruit has its worm;
that of the telegraph man was horticulture. He began gathering the
grape-leaves which screened the sun from the grapes, and won the heart
of the gardener. "Did you come here, sir, to see the telegraph?" he
said.

"Yes, if it isn't contrary to the rules."

"Oh, no," said the gardener; "not in the least, since there is no danger
that anyone can possibly understand what we are saying."

"I have been told," sa