n I breakfasted with the count."

"He eats, then?"

"Yes; but so little, it can hardly be called eating."

"He must be a vampire."

"Laugh, if you will; the Countess G----, who knew Lord Ruthven, declared
that the count was a vampire."

"Ah, capital," said Beauchamp. "For a man not connected with newspapers,
here is the pendant to the famous sea-serpent of the Constitutionnel."

"Wild eyes, the iris of which contracts or dilates at pleasure," said
Debray; "facial angle strongly developed, magnificent forehead,
livid complexion, black beard, sharp and white teeth, politeness
unexceptionable."

"Just so, Lucien," returned Morcerf; "you have described him feature for
feature. Yes, keen and cutting politeness. This man has often made me
shudder; and one day that we were viewing an execution, I thought I
should faint, more from hearing the cold and calm manner in which
he spoke of every description of torture, than from the sight of the
executioner and the culprit."

"Did he not conduct you to the ruins of the Colosseum and suck your
blood?" asked Beauchamp.

"Or, having delivered you, make you sign a flaming parchment,
surrendering your soul to him as Esau did his birth-right?"

"Rail on, rail on at your ease, gentlemen," said Morcerf, somewhat
piqued. "When I look at you Parisians, idlers on the Boulevard de Gand
or the Bois de Boulogne, and think of this man, it seems to me we are
not of the same race."

"I am highly flattered," returned Beauchamp. "At the same time," added
Chateau-Renaud, "your Count of Monte Cristo is a very fine fellow,
always excepting his little arrangements with the Italian banditti."

"There are no Italian banditti," said Debray.

"No vampire," cried Beauchamp. "No Count of Monte Cristo" added Debray.
"There is half-past ten striking, Albert."

"Confess you have dreamed this, and let us sit down to breakfast,"
continued Beauchamp. But the sound of the clock had not died away when
Germain announced, "His excellency the Count of Monte Cristo." The
involuntary start every one gave proved how much Morcerf's narrative
had impressed them, and Albert himself could not wholly refrain from
manifesting sudden emotion. He had not heard a carriage stop in the
street, or steps in the ante-chamber; the door had itself opened
noiselessly. The count appeared, dressed with the greatest simplicity,
but the most fastidious dandy could have found nothing to cavil at in
his toilet. Every article of dr