“Yes; but you knew the name of the person to whom it was addressed,” said Villefort.
“I was forced to read the address to know to whom to give it.”
“Have you shown this letter to anyone?” asked Villefort, becoming still more pale.
“To no one, on my honor.”
“Everybody is ignorant that you are the bearer of a letter from the Island of Elba, and addressed to M. Noirtier?”
“Everybody, except the person who gave it to me.”
“And that was too much, far too much,” murmured Villefort. Villefort’s brow darkened more and more, his white lips and clenched teeth filled Dantès with apprehension. After reading the letter, Villefort covered his face with his hands.
“Oh,” said Dantès timidly, “what is the matter?” Villefort made no answer, but raised his head at the expiration of a few seconds, and again perused the letter.
“And you say that you are ignorant of the contents of this letter?”
“I give you my word of honor, sir,” said Dantès; “but what is the matter? You are ill—shall I ring for assistance?—shall I call?”