n, much keenness of wit, and as to
suitability, M. Danglars assures me that his fortune is majestic--that
is his word."

"And then," said Eugenie, while turning over the leaves of Madame de
Villefort's album, "add that you have taken a great fancy to the young
man."

"And," said Madame de Villefort, "I need not ask you if you share that
fancy."

"I?" replied Eugenie with her usual candor. "Oh, not the least in the
world, madame! My wish was not to confine myself to domestic cares, or
the caprices of any man, but to be an artist, and consequently free in
heart, in person, and in thought." Eugenie pronounced these words with
so firm a tone that the color mounted to Valentine's cheeks. The timid
girl could not understand that vigorous nature which appeared to have
none of the timidities of woman.

"At any rate," said she, "since I am to be married whether I will or
not, I ought to be thankful to providence for having released me from my
engagement with M. Albert de Morcerf, or I should this day have been the
wife of a dishonored man."

"It is true," said the baroness, with that strange simplicity sometimes
met with among fashionable ladies, and of which plebeian intercourse can
never entirely deprive them,--"it is very true that had not the Morcerfs
hesitated, my daughter would have married Monsieur Albert. The general
depended much on it; he even came to force M. Danglars. We have had a
narrow escape."

"But," said Valentine, timidly, "does all the father's shame revert upon
the son? Monsieur Albert appears to me quite innocent of the treason
charged against the general."

"Excuse me," said the implacable young girl, "Monsieur Albert claims and
well deserves his share. It appears that after having challenged M.
de Monte Cristo at the Opera yesterday, he apologized on the ground
to-day."

"Impossible," said Madame de Villefort.

"Ah, my dear friend," said Madame Danglars, with the same simplicity
we before noticed, "it is a fact. I heard it from M. Debray, who was
present at the explanation." Valentine also knew the truth, but she did
not answer. A single word had reminded her that Morrel was expecting
her in M. Noirtier's room. Deeply engaged with a sort of inward
contemplation, Valentine had ceased for a moment to join in the
conversation. She would, indeed, have found it impossible to repeat what
had been said the last few minutes, when suddenly Madame Danglars' hand,
pressed on her arm, aroused her from he