ours appear enviable. But this annoys you; let
us change the subject. You were saying, madame"--

"I came to ask you, my friend," said the baroness, "what will be done
with this impostor?"

"Impostor," repeated Villefort; "certainly, madame, you appear to
extenuate some cases, and exaggerate others. Impostor, indeed!--M.
Andrea Cavalcanti, or rather M. Benedetto, is nothing more nor less than
an assassin!"

"Sir, I do not deny the justice of your correction, but the more
severely you arm yourself against that unfortunate man, the more deeply
will you strike our family. Come, forget him for a moment, and instead
of pursuing him let him go."

"You are too late, madame; the orders are issued."

"Well, should he be arrested--do they think they will arrest him?"

"I hope so."

"If they should arrest him (I know that sometimes prisoners afford means
of escape), will you leave him in prison?"--The procureur shook his
head. "At least keep him there till my daughter be married."

"Impossible, madame; justice has its formalities."

"What, even for me?" said the baroness, half jesting, half in earnest.
"For all, even for myself among the rest," replied Villefort.

"Ah," exclaimed the baroness, without expressing the ideas which the
exclamation betrayed. Villefort looked at her with that piercing glance
which reads the secrets of the heart. "Yes, I know what you mean," he
said; "you refer to the terrible rumors spread abroad in the world, that
the deaths which have kept me in mourning for the last three months, and
from which Valentine has only escaped by a miracle, have not happened by
natural means."

"I was not thinking of that," replied Madame Danglars quickly. "Yes, you
were thinking of it, and with justice. You could not help thinking of
it, and saying to yourself, 'you, who pursue crime so vindictively,
answer now, why are there unpunished crimes in your dwelling?'" The
baroness became pale. "You were saying this, were you not?"

"Well, I own it."

"I will answer you."

Villefort drew his armchair nearer to Madame Danglars; then resting both
hands upon his desk he said in a voice more hollow than usual: "There
are crimes which remain unpunished because the criminals are unknown,
and we might strike the innocent instead of the guilty; but when the
culprits are discovered" (Villefort here extended his hand toward a
large crucifix placed opposite to his desk)--"when they are discovered,
I swear to you, by all