She thanked them both with a smile."No," returned she, "but I feel some emotion on seeing, for the first time, the man without whose intervention we should have been in tears and desolation.Monsieur," continued the countess, advancing with the majesty of a queen, "I owe to you the life of my son, and for this I bless you.Now, I thank you for the pleasure you give me in thus affording me the opportunity of thanking you as I have blessed you, from the bottom of my heart." The count bowed again, but lower than before; He was even paler than Mercedes."Madame," said he, "the count and yourself recompense too generously a ****** action.To save a man, to spare a father's feelings, or a mother's sensibility, is not to do a good action, but a ****** deed of humanity." At these words, uttered with the most exquisite sweetness and politeness, Madame de Morcerf replied."It is very fortunate for my son, monsieur, that he found such a friend, and I thank God that things are thus."And Mercedes raised her fine eyes to heaven with so fervent an expression of gratitude, that the count fancied he saw tears in them.M.de Morcerf approached her."Madame," said he."I have already made my excuses to the count for quitting him, and I pray you to do so also.The sitting commences at two; it is now three, and I am to speak.""Go, then, and monsieur and I will strive our best to forget your absence," replied the countess, with the same tone of deep feeling."Monsieur," continued she, turning to Monte Cristo, "will you do us the honor of passing the rest of the day with us?""Believe me, madame, I feel most grateful for your kindness, but I got out of my travelling carriage at your door this morning, and I am ignorant how I am installed in Paris, which I scarcely know; this is but a trifling inquietude, Iknow, but one that may be appreciated."
"We shall have the pleasure another time," said the countess; "you promise that?" Monte Cristo inclined himself without answering, but the gesture might pass for assent."Iwill not detain you, monsieur," continued the countess; "Iwould not have our gratitude become indiscreet or importunate.""My dear Count," said Albert, "I will endeavor to return your politeness at Rome, and place my coupe at your disposal until your own be ready.""A thousand thanks for your kindness, viscount," returned the Count of Monte Cristo "but I suppose that M.Bertuccio has suitably employed the four hours and a half I have given him, and that I shall find a carriage of some sort ready at the door." Albert was used to the count's manner of proceeding; he knew that, like Nero, he was in search of the impossible, and nothing astonished him, but wishing to judge with his own eyes how far the count's orders had been executed, he accompanied him to the door of the house.Monte Cristo was not deceived.As soon as he appeared in the Count of Morcerf's ante-chamber, a footman, the same who at Rome had brought the count's card to the two young men, and announced his visit, sprang into the vestibule, and when he arrived at the door the illustrious traveller found his carriage awaiting him.It was a coupe of Koller's building, and with horses and harness for which Drake had, to the knowledge of all the lions of Paris, refused on the previous day seven hundred guineas."Monsieur," said the count to Albert, "I do not ask you to accompany me to my house, as Ican only show you a habitation fitted up in a hurry, and Ihave, as you know, a reputation to keep up as regards not being taken by surprise.Give me, therefore, one more day before I invite you; I shall then be certain not to fail in my hospitality.""If you ask me for a day, count, I know what to anticipate;it will not be a house I shall see, but a palace.You have decidedly some genius at your control.""Ma foi, spread that idea," replied the Count of Monte Cristo, putting his foot on the velvet-lined steps of his splendid carriage, "and that will be worth something to me among the ladies." As he spoke, he sprang into the vehicle, the door was closed, but not so rapidly that Monte Cristo failed to perceive the almost imperceptible movement which stirred the curtains of the apartment in which he had left Madame de Morcerf.When Albert returned to his mother, he found her in the boudoir reclining in a large velvet arm-chair, the whole room so obscure that only the shining spangle, fastened here and there to the drapery, and the angles of the gilded frames of the pictures, showed with some degree of brightness in the gloom.Albert could not see the face of the countess, as it was covered with a thin veil she had put on her head, and which fell over her features in misty folds, but it seemed to him as though her voice had altered.He could distinguish amid the perfumes of the roses and heliotropes in the flower-stands, the sharp and fragrant odor of volatile salts, and he noticed in one of the chased cups on the mantle-piece the countess's smelling-bottle, taken from its shagreen case, and exclaimed in a tone of uneasiness, as he entered, -- "My dear mother, have you been ill during my absence?""No, no, Albert, but you know these roses, tuberoses, and orange-flowers throw out at first, before one is used to them, such violent perfumes.""Then, my dear mother," said Albert, putting his hand to the bell, "they must be taken into the ante-chamber.You are really ill, and just now were so pale as you came into the room" --"Was I pale, Albert?"
"Yes; a pallor that suits you admirably, mother, but which did not the less alarm my father and myself.""Did your father speak of it?" inquired Mercedes eagerly.