Page:The Count of Monte-Cristo (1887 Volume 2).djvu/224

206 was impossible to say; they awaited, whilst gratifying the eyes, a destination unknown to their owner himself. In the mean time they filled the room with their golden and silky reflections.

In the center of the room was a piano in rosewood, of Roller and Blanchet, of small dimensions, but containing an orchestra in its narrow and sonorous cavity, and groaning beneath the weight of the chefs-d'oeuvre of Beethoven, Weber, Mozart, Haydn, Gretry, and Porpora.

On the walls, over the doors, on the ceiling, were swords, daggers, Malay creeses, maces, battle-axes, suits of armor, gilded, damasked, and inlaid, dried plants, minerals, and stuffed birds, opening their flame-colored wings as if for flight, and their beaks that never close. This was the favorite sitting-room of Albert.

However, the morning of the appointment, the young man had established himself in the small salon downstairs. There, on a table, surrounded at some distance by a large and luxurious divan, every species of tobacco known, from the yellow tobacco of Petersburg to the black tobacco of Sinai, the Maryland, the Porto Rico, and the Latakieh, was exposed in those pots of crackled earthenware of which the Dutch are so fond: beside them, in boxes of fragrant wood, were ranged, according to their size and quality, puros, regalias, havannas, and manillas; and, in an open cabinet, a collection of German pipes, of chibouk, with their amber mouth-pieces, ornamented with coral, and of nargilehs, with their long tubes of morocco coiled like serpents, awaited the caprice or the sympathy of the smokers.

Albert had himself presided at the arrangement, or, rather, the symmetrical derangement, which, after coffee, the guests at a breakfast of modern days love to contemplate through the vapor that escapes from their mouth, and ascends in long and fanciful wreaths to the ceiling.

At a quarter to ten, a valet entered; he composed with a little groom named John, and who only spoke English, all Albert's establishment, although the cook of the hotel was always at his service, and on great occasions the count's chasseur also. This valet, whose name was Germain, and who enjoyed the entire confidence of his young master, held in one hand a number of papers, and in the other a packet of letters, which he gave to Albert. Albert glanced carelessly at the different missives, selected two written in a small and delicate hand, and inclosed in scented envelopes, opened them, and perused their contents with some attention.

"How did these letters come?" said he.

"One by the post; Madame Danglars' footman left the other."

"Let Madame Danglars know that I accept the place she offers me in her box. Wait; then, during the day, tell Rosa that when I leave the