“My stables are at your command, viscount; but you will kill yourself by riding on horseback. Take a post-chaise or a carriage.”
“No, it would delay me, and I need the fatigue you warn me of; it will do me good.”
Albert reeled as if he had been shot, and fell on a chair near the door. Monte Cristo did not see this second manifestation of physical exhaustion; he was at the window, calling:
“Ali, a horse for M. de Morcerf—quick! he is in a hurry!”
These words restored Albert; he darted from the room, followed by the count.
“Thank you!” cried he, throwing himself on his horse.
“Return as soon as you can, Florentin. Must I use any password to procure a horse?”
“Only dismount; another will be immediately saddled.”
Albert hesitated a moment. “You may think my departure strange and foolish,” said the young man; “you do not know how a paragraph in a newspaper may exasperate one. Read that,” said he, “when I am gone, that you may not be witness of my anger.”