pecting it?"

"Do you wish to know why he bought it?"

"Yes."

"The count is a speculator, who will certainly ruin himself in
experiments. He supposes there is in the neighborhood of the house he
has bought a mineral spring equal to those at Bagneres, Luchon, and
Cauterets. He is going to turn his house into a Badhaus, as the Germans
term it. He has already dug up all the garden two or three times to find
the famous spring, and, being unsuccessful, he will soon purchase all
the contiguous houses. Now, as I dislike him, and hope his railway,
his electric telegraph, or his search for baths, will ruin him, I am
watching for his discomfiture, which must soon take place."

"What was the cause of your quarrel?"

"When he was in England he seduced the wife of one of my friends."

"Why do you not seek revenge?"

"I have already fought three duels with him," said the Englishman, "the
first with the pistol, the second with the sword, and the third with the
sabre."

"And what was the result of those duels?"

"The first time, he broke my arm; the second, he wounded me in the
breast; and the third time, made this large wound." The Englishman
turned down his shirt-collar, and showed a scar, whose redness proved
it to be a recent one. "So that, you see, there is a deadly feud between
us."

"But," said the envoy, "you do not go about it in the right way to kill
him, if I understand you correctly."

"Aw?" said the Englishman, "I practice shooting every day, and every
other day Grisier comes to my house."

This was all the visitor wished to ascertain, or, rather, all the
Englishman appeared to know. The agent arose, and having bowed to Lord
Wilmore, who returned his salutation with the stiff politeness of the
English, he retired. Lord Wilmore, having heard the door close after
him, returned to his bedroom, where with one hand he pulled off his
light hair, his red whiskers, his false jaw, and his wound, to resume
the black hair, dark complexion, and pearly teeth of the Count of Monte
Cristo. It was M. de Villefort, and not the prefect, who returned to the
house of M. de Villefort. The procureur felt more at ease, although he
had learned nothing really satisfactory, and, for the first time since
the dinner-party at Auteuil, he slept soundly.

Chapter 70. The Ball.

It was in the warmest days of July, when in due course of time the
Saturday arrived upon which the ball was to take place at M. de
Morcerf's. It was ten o