Граф Монте-Кристо

La Mazzolata.

           "But,"saidhe,"didyouobserveoneverysingularthing?"

           "What?"

           "Howattentivelyhelookedatyou."

           "Atme?"

           "Yes."—Albertreflected."Ah,"repliedhe,sighing,"thatisnotverysurprising;IhavebeenmorethanayearabsentfromParis,andmyclothesareofamostantiquatedcut;thecounttakesmeforaprovincial.Thefirstopportunityyouhave,undeceivehim,Ibeg,andtellhimIamnothingofthekind."Franzsmiled;aninstantafterthecountentered.

           "Iamnowquiteatyourservice,gentlemen,"saidhe."ThecarriageisgoingonewaytothePiazzadelPopolo,andwewillgoanother;and,ifyouplease,bytheCorso.Takesomemoreofthesecigars,M.deMorcerf."

           "Withallmyheart,"returnedAlbert;"Italiancigarsarehorrible.WhenyoucometoParis,Iwillreturnallthis."

           "Iwillnotrefuse;Iintendgoingtheresoon,andsinceyouallowme,Iwillpayyouavisit.Come,wehavenotanytimetolose,itishalf-pasttwelveletussetoff."Allthreedescended;thecoachmanreceivedhismaster’sorders,anddrovedowntheViadelBabuino.WhilethethreegentlemenwalkedalongthePiazzadeSpagniandtheViaFrattina,whichleddirectlybetweentheFianoandRospolipalaces,Franz’sattentionwasdirectedtowardsthewindowsofthatlastpalace,forhehadnotforgottenthesignalagreeduponbetweenthemaninthemantleandtheTransteverepeasant.

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