“But,” said he, “did you observe one very singular thing?”
“What?”
“How attentively he looked at you.”
“At me?”
“Yes.”
Albert reflected. “Ah,” replied he, sighing, “that is not very surprising; I have been more than a year absent from Paris, and my clothes are of a most antiquated cut; the count takes me for a provincial. The first opportunity you have, undeceive him, I beg, and tell him I am nothing of the kind.”
Franz smiled; an instant after the count entered.
“I am now quite at your service, gentlemen,” said he. “The carriage is going one way to the Piazza del Popolo, and we will go another; and, if you please, by the Corso. Take some more of these cigars, M. de Morcerf.”
“With all my heart,” returned Albert; “Italian cigars are horrible. When you come to Paris, I will return all this.”
“I will not refuse; I intend going there soon, and since you allow me, I will pay you a visit. Come, we have not any time to lose, it is half-past twelve—let us set off.”