Граф Монте-Крісто

Monsieur Bertuccio.

           Theotherbowedrespectfully,andofferedhisarmtoassistthecountindescending."Thanks,M.Bertuccio,"saidthecount,springinglightlyupthethreestepsoftheportico;"andthenotary?"

           "Heisinthesmallsalon,excellency,"returnedBertuccio.

           "AndthecardsIorderedtobeengravedassoonasyouknewthenumberofthehouse?"

           "Yourexcellency,itisdonealready.IhavebeenmyselftothebestengraverofthePalaisRoyal,whodidtheplateinmypresence.Thefirstcardstruckoffwastaken,accordingtoyourorders,totheBaronDanglars,RuedelaChausseed’Antin,No.7;theothersareonthemantle-pieceofyourexcellency’sbedroom."

           "Good;whato’clockisit?"

           "Fouro’clock."MonteCristogavehishat,cane,andglovestothesameFrenchfootmanwhohadcalledhiscarriageattheCountofMorcerf’s,andthenhepassedintothesmallsalon,precededbyBertuccio,whoshowedhimtheway."Thesearebutindifferentmarblesinthisante-chamber,"saidMonteCristo."Itrustallthiswillsoonbetakenaway."Bertucciobowed.Asthestewardhadsaid,thenotaryawaitedhiminthesmallsalon.Hewasasimple-lookinglawyer’sclerk,elevatedtotheextraordinarydignityofaprovincialscrivener."YouarethenotaryempoweredtosellthecountryhousethatIwishtopurchase,monsieur?"askedMonteCristo.

           "Yes,count,"returnedthenotary.

           "Isthedeedofsaleready?"

           "Yes,count.

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