The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas [249]
"All, sir."
"Have you the keys?"
"They are in the hands of the concierge, who takes care of the house, but here is the order I have given him to install the count in his new possessions."
"Very well;" and Monte Cristo made a sign with his hand to the notary, which said, "I have no further need of you; you may go."
"But," observed the honest notary, "the count is, I think, mistaken; it is only fifty thousand francs, everything included."
"And your fee?"
"Is included in this sum."
"But have you not come from Auteuil here?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Well, then, it is but fair that you should be paid for your loss of time and trouble," said the count; and he made a gesture of polite dismissal. The notary left the room backwards, and bowing down to the ground; it was the first time he had ever met a similar client. "See this gentleman out," said the count to Bertuccio. And the steward followed the notary out of the room. Scarcely was the count alone, when he drew from his pocket a book closed with a lock, and opened it with a key which he wore round his neck, and which never left him. After having sought for a few minutes, he stopped at a leaf which had several notes, and compared them with the deed of sale, which lay on the table. ""Auteuil, Rue de la Fontaine, No. 28;" it is indeed the same," said he; "and now, am I to rely upon an avowal extorted by religious or physical terror? However, in an hour I shall know all. Bertuccio!" cried he, striking a light hammer with a pliant handle on a small gong. "Bertuccio!" The steward appeared at the door. "Monsieur Bertuccio," said the count, "did you never tell me that you had travelled in France?"
"In some parts of France—yes, excellency."
"You know the environs of Paris, then?"
"No, excellency, no," returned the steward, with a sort of nervous trembling, which Monte Cristo, a connoisseur in all emotions, rightly attributed to great disquietude.
"It is unfortunate," returned he, "that you have never visited the environs, for I wish to see my new property this evening, and had you gone with me, you could have given me some useful information."
"To Auteuil!" cried Bertuccio, whose copper complexion became livid—"I go to Auteuil?"
"Well, what is there surprising in that? When I live at Auteuil, you must come there, as you belong to my service." Bertuccio hung down his head before the imperious look of his master, and remained motionless, without making any answer. "Why, what has happened to you?—are you going to make me ring a second time for the carriage?" asked Monte Cristo, in the same tone that Louis XIV. pronounced the famous, "I have been almost obliged to wait." Bertuccio made but one bound to the ante–chamber, and cried in a hoarse voice—"His excellency's horses!" Monte Cristo wrote two or three notes, and, as he sealed the last, the steward appeared. "Your excellency's carriage is at the door," said he.
"Well, take your hat and gloves," returned Monte Cristo.
"Am I to accompany you, your excellency?" cried Bertuccio.
"Certainly, you must give the orders, for I intend residing at the house." It was unexampled for a servant of the count's to dare to dispute an order of his, so the steward, without saying a word, followed his master, who got into the carriage, and signed to him to follow, which he did, taking his place respectfully on the front seat.
Chapter 43
The House at Auteuil
Monte Cristo noticed, as they descended the staircase, that Bertuccio signed himself in the Corsican manner; that is, had formed the sign of the cross in the air with his thumb, and as he seated himself in the carriage, muttered a short prayer. Any one but a man of exhaustless thirst for knowledge would have had pity on seeing the steward's extraordinary repugnance for the count's projected drive without the walls; but the Count was too curious to let Bertuccio off from this little journey. In