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Let us go, then, said Franz, since you wish it; but on
our way to the Piazza del Popolo, I wish to pass through the
Corso. Is this possible, count?
On foot, yes, in a carriage, no.
I will go on foot, then.
Is it important that you should go that way?
Yes, there is something I wish to see.
Well, we will go by the Corso. We will send the carriage to
wait for us on the Piazza del Popolo, by the Strada del
Babuino, for I shall be glad to pass, myself, through the
Corso, to see if some orders I have given have been
executed.
Excellency, said a servant, opening the door, a man in
the dress of a penitent wishes to speak to you.
Ah, yes returned the count, I know who he is, gentlemen;
will you return to the salon? you will find good cigars on
the centre table. I will be with you directly. The young
men rose and returned into the salon, while the count, again
apologizing, left by another door. Albert, who was a great
smoker, and who had considered it no small sacrifice to be
deprived of the cigars of the Cafe de Paris, approached the
table, and uttered a cry of joy at perceiving some veritable
puros.
Well, asked Franz, what think you of the Count of Monte
Cristo?
What do I think? said Albert, evidently surprised at such
a question from his companion; I think he is a delightful
fellow, who does the honors of his table admirably; who has
travelled much, read much, is, like Brutus, of the Stoic
school, and moreover, added he, sending a volume of smoke
up towards the ceiling, that he has excellent cigars. Such
was Alberts opinion of the count, and as Franz well knew
that Albert professed never to form an opinion except upon
long reflection, he made no attempt to change it. But,
said he, did you observe one very singular thing?
What?
How attentively he looked at you.
At me?
Yes. -- Albert reflected. Ah, replied he, sighing, that
is not very surprising; I have been more than a year absent
from Paris, and my clothes are of a most antiquated cut; the
count takes me for a provincial. The first opportunity you
have, undeceive him, I beg, and tell him I am nothing of the
kind. Franz smiled; an instant after the count entered.
I am now quite at your service, gentlemen, said he. The
carriage is going one way to the Piazza del Popolo, and we
will go another; and, if you please, by the Corso. Take some
more of these cigars, M. de Morcerf.
With all my heart, returned Albert; Italian cigars are
horrible. When you come to Paris, I will return all this.
I will not refuse; I intend going there soon, and since you
allow me, I will pay you a visit. Come, we have not any time
to lose, it is half-past twelve -- let us set off. All
three descended; the coachman received his masters orders,
and drove down the Via del Babuino. While the three
gentlemen walked along the Piazza de Spagni and the Via
Frattina, which led directly between the Fiano and Rospoli
palaces, Franzs attention was directed towards the windows
of that last palace, for he had not forgotten the signal
agreed upon between the man in the mantle and the
Transtevere peasant. Which are your windows? asked he of
the count, with as much indifference as he could assume.
The three last, returned he, with a negligence evidently
unaffected, for he could not imagine with what intention the
question was put. Franz glanced rapidly towards the three
windows. The side windows were hung with yellow damask, and
the centre one with white damask and a red cross. The man in
the mantle had kept his promise to the Transteverin, and
there could now be no doubt that he was the count. The three
windows were still untenanted. Preparations were making on
every side; chairs were placed, scaffolds were raised, and
windows were hung with flags. The masks could not appear;
the carriages could not move about; but the masks were
visible behind the windows, the carriages, and the doors.
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