ntrance of the new-comers, their eyes glanced from father to
son, and then, naturally enough, rested on the latter, whom they began
criticising. "Cavalcanti!" said Debray. "A fine name," said Morrel.

"Yes," said Chateau-Renaud, "these Italians are well named and badly
dressed."

"You are fastidious, Chateau-Renaud," replied Debray; "those clothes are
well cut and quite new."

"That is just what I find fault with. That gentleman appears to be well
dressed for the first time in his life."

"Who are those gentlemen?" asked Danglars of Monte Cristo.

"You heard--Cavalcanti."

"That tells me their name, and nothing else."

"Ah, true. You do not know the Italian nobility; the Cavalcanti are all
descended from princes."

"Have they any fortune?"

"An enormous one."

"What do they do?"

"Try to spend it all. They have some business with you, I think, from
what they told me the day before yesterday. I, indeed, invited them here
to-day on your account. I will introduce you to them."

"But they appear to speak French with a very pure accent," said
Danglars.

"The son has been educated in a college in the south; I believe near
Marseilles. You will find him quite enthusiastic."

"Upon what subject?" asked Madame Danglars.

"The French ladies, madame. He has made up his mind to take a wife from
Paris."

"A fine idea that of his," said Danglars, shrugging his shoulders.
Madame Danglars looked at her husband with an expression which, at any
other time, would have indicated a storm, but for the second time she
controlled herself. "The baron appears thoughtful to-day," said Monte
Cristo to her; "are they going to put him in the ministry?"

"Not yet, I think. More likely he has been speculating on the Bourse,
and has lost money."

"M. and Madame de Villefort," cried Baptistin. They entered. M. de
Villefort, notwithstanding his self-control, was visibly affected, and
when Monte Cristo touched his hand, he felt it tremble. "Certainly,
women alone know how to dissimulate," said Monte Cristo to himself,
glancing at Madame Danglars, who was smiling on the procureur, and
embracing his wife. After a short time, the count saw Bertuccio, who,
until then, had been occupied on the other side of the house, glide into
an adjoining room. He went to him. "What do you want, M. Bertuccio?"
said he.

"Your excellency has not stated the number of guests."

"Ah, true."

"How many covers?"

"Count for yourself."

"Is every on