ulated according to his wish. When the count arrived, he had
under his touch his books and arms, his eyes rested upon his favorite
pictures; his dogs, whose caresses he loved, welcomed him in the
ante-chamber; the birds, whose songs delighted him, cheered him with
their music; and the house, awakened from its long sleep, like the
sleeping beauty in the wood, lived, sang, and bloomed like the houses we
have long cherished, and in which, when we are forced to leave them,
we leave a part of our souls. The servants passed gayly along the fine
court-yard; some, belonging to the kitchens, gliding down the stairs,
restored but the previous day, as if they had always inhabited the
house; others filling the coach-houses, where the equipages, encased and
numbered, appeared to have been installed for the last fifty years; and
in the stables the horses replied with neighs to the grooms, who spoke
to them with much more respect than many servants pay their masters.

The library was divided into two parts on either side of the wall, and
contained upwards of two thousand volumes; one division was entirely
devoted to novels, and even the volume which had been published but the
day before was to be seen in its place in all the dignity of its red and
gold binding. On the other side of the house, to match with the library,
was the conservatory, ornamented with rare flowers, that bloomed in
china jars; and in the midst of the greenhouse, marvellous alike to
sight and smell, was a billiard-table which looked as if it had been
abandoned during the past hour by players who had left the balls on
the cloth. One chamber alone had been respected by the magnificent
Bertuccio. Before this room, to which you could ascend by the grand, and
go out by the back staircase, the servants passed with curiosity, and
Bertuccio with terror. At five o'clock precisely, the count arrived
before the house at Auteuil, followed by Ali. Bertuccio was awaiting
this arrival with impatience, mingled with uneasiness; he hoped for some
compliments, while, at the same time, he feared to have frowns. Monte
Cristo descended into the courtyard, walked all over the house, without
giving any sign of approbation or pleasure, until he entered his
bedroom, situated on the opposite side to the closed room; then he
approached a little piece of furniture, made of rosewood, which he had
noticed at a previous visit. "That can only be to hold gloves," he said.

"Will your excellency dei