of a million to Danglars. "Good," said Monte Cristo to Morrel, who was
at his house when the news arrived of the strange reverse of fortune of
which Danglars had been the victim, "I have just made a discovery for
twenty-five thousand francs, for which I would have paid a hundred
thousand."

"What have you discovered?" asked Morrel.

"I have just discovered how a gardener may get rid of the dormice that
eat his peaches."

Chapter 62. Ghosts.

At first sight, the exterior of the house at Auteuil gave no indications
of splendor, nothing one would expect from the destined residence of the
magnificent Count of Monte Cristo; but this simplicity was according
to the will of its master, who positively ordered nothing to be altered
outside. The splendor was within. Indeed, almost before the door
opened, the scene changed. M. Bertuccio had outdone himself in the taste
displayed in furnishing, and in the rapidity with which it was executed.
It is told that the Duc d'Antin removed in a single night a whole avenue
of trees that annoyed Louis XIV.; in three days M. Bertuccio planted an
entirely bare court with poplars, large spreading sycamores to shade
the different parts of the house, and in the foreground, instead of the
usual paving-stones, half hidden by the grass, there extended a lawn but
that morning laid down, and upon which the water was yet glistening. For
the rest, the orders had been issued by the count; he himself had given
a plan to Bertuccio, marking the spot where each tree was to be planted,
and the shape and extent of the lawn which was to take the place of the
paving-stones. Thus the house had become unrecognizable, and Bertuccio
himself declared that he scarcely knew it, encircled as it was by a
framework of trees. The overseer would not have objected, while he was
about it, to have made some improvements in the garden, but the count
had positively forbidden it to be touched. Bertuccio made amends,
however, by loading the ante-chambers, staircases, and mantle-pieces
with flowers.

What, above all, manifested the shrewdness of the steward, and the
profound science of the master, the one in carrying out the ideas of the
other, was that this house which appeared only the night before so sad
and gloomy, impregnated with that sickly smell one can almost fancy to
be the smell of time, had in a single day acquired the aspect of life,
was scented with its master's favorite perfumes, and had the very light
reg