questioned.
"But who then is Andrea Cavalcanti?" asked Danglars in amazement.

"A galley-slave, escaped from confinement at Toulon."

"And what crime has he committed?"

"He is accused," said the commissary with his inflexible voice, "of
having assassinated the man named Caderousse, his former companion in
prison, at the moment he was making his escape from the house of the
Count of Monte Cristo." Monte Cristo cast a rapid glance around him.
Andrea was gone.

Chapter 97. The Departure for Belgium.

A few minutes after the scene of confusion produced in the salons of M.
Danglars by the unexpected appearance of the brigade of soldiers, and by
the disclosure which had followed, the mansion was deserted with as
much rapidity as if a case of plague or of cholera morbus had broken out
among the guests. In a few minutes, through all the doors, down all the
staircases, by every exit, every one hastened to retire, or rather to
fly; for it was a situation where the ordinary condolences,--which even
the best friends are so eager to offer in great catastrophes,--were
seen to be utterly futile. There remained in the banker's house only
Danglars, closeted in his study, and making his statement to the officer
of gendarmes; Madame Danglars, terrified, in the boudoir with which we
are acquainted; and Eugenie, who with haughty air and disdainful lip had
retired to her room with her inseparable companion, Mademoiselle Louise
d'Armilly. As for the numerous servants (more numerous that evening than
usual, for their number was augmented by cooks and butlers from the Cafe
de Paris), venting on their employers their anger at what they termed
the insult to which they had been subjected, they collected in groups
in the hall, in the kitchens, or in their rooms, thinking very little of
their duty, which was thus naturally interrupted. Of all this household,
only two persons deserve our notice; these are Mademoiselle Eugenie
Danglars and Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly.

The betrothed had retired, as we said, with haughty air, disdainful lip,
and the demeanor of an outraged queen, followed by her companion, who
was paler and more disturbed than herself. On reaching her room Eugenie
locked her door, while Louise fell on a chair. "Ah, what a dreadful
thing," said the young musician; "who would have suspected it? M. Andrea
Cavalcanti a murderer--a galley-slave escaped--a convict!" An ironical
smile curled the lip of Eugenie. "In truth I was fa