“Where am I?” exclaimed she; “and to whom am I indebted for so happy a termination to my late dreadful alarm?”
“Madame,” answered the count, “you are under the roof of one who esteems himself most fortunate in having been able to save you from a further continuance of your sufferings.”
“My wretched curiosity has brought all this about,” pursued the lady. “All Paris rung with the praises of Madame Danglars’ beautiful horses, and I had the folly to desire to know whether they really merited the high praise given to them.”
“Is it possible,” exclaimed the count with well-feigned astonishment, “that these horses belong to the baroness?”
“They do, indeed. May I inquire if you are acquainted with Madame Danglars?”
“I have that honor; and my happiness at your escape from the danger that threatened you is redoubled by the consciousness that I have been the unwilling and the unintentional cause of all the peril you have incurred. I yesterday purchased these horses of the baron; but as the baroness evidently regretted parting with them, I ventured to send them back to her, with a request that she would gratify me by accepting them from my hands.”
“You are, then, doubtless, the Count of Monte Cristo, of whom Hermine has talked to me so much?”
“You have rightly guessed, madame,” replied the count.
“And I am Madame Héloïse de Villefort.”