Page:The Count of Monte-Cristo (1887 Volume 2).djvu/199

181 There was no time to lose. He hastened to open the secrétaire, and found the pocket-book in the drawer, and in it the letter of credit. There were in all six thousand piastres, but of these six thousand Albert had already expended three thousand.

As to Franz, he had no letter of credit, as he lived at Florence, and had only come to Rome to pass seven or eight days; he had brought but a hundred louis, and of these he had not more than fifty left. Thus seven or eight hundred piastres were wanting to them both to make up the sum that Albert required. True, he might in such a case rely on the kindness of M. Torlonia. He was, therefore, about to return to the Palazzo Bracciano without loss of time, when suddenly a luminous idea crossed his mind.

He remembered the Count of Monte-Cristo. Franz was about to ring for Maitre Pastrini, when that worthy presented himself.

"My dear sir," he said hastily, "do you know if the count is within?"

"Yes, your excellency; he has this moment returned."

"Is he in bed?"

"I should say no."

"Then ring at his door, if you please, and request him to be so kind as to give me an audience."

Maitre Pastrini did as he was desired, and returning five minutes after, he said:

"The count awaits your excellency."

Franz went along the corridor, and a servant introduced him to the count. He was in a small cabinet which Franz had not yet seen, and which was surrounded with divans. The count came toward him.

"Well, what good wind blows you hither at this hour?" said he; "have you come to sup with me? It would be very kind of you."

"No; I have come to speak to you of a very serious matter."

"A serious matter!" said the count, looking at Franz with the earn estness usual to him;" and what may it be?"

"Are we alone?"

"Yes," replied the count, going to the door, and returning. Franz gave him Albert's letter.

"Read that," he said. The count read it.

"Ah! ah!" said he.

"Did you see the postcript?"

"I did, indeed."

"'Se alle set della mattina le quattro mille piastre non sono nelle mie mani, alle sette il Conte Alberto avrà cessato di vivere.