“But they appear to speak French with a very pure accent,” said Danglars.
“The son has been educated in a college in the south; I believe near Marseilles. You will find him quite enthusiastic.”
“Upon what subject?” asked Madame Danglars.
“The French ladies, madame. He has made up his mind to take a wife from Paris.”
“A fine idea that of his,” said Danglars, shrugging his shoulders. Madame Danglars looked at her husband with an expression which, at any other time, would have indicated a storm, but for the second time she controlled herself.
“The baron appears thoughtful today,” said Monte Cristo to her; “are they going to put him in the ministry?”
“Not yet, I think. More likely he has been speculating on the Bourse, and has lost money.”
“M. and Madame de Villefort,” cried Baptistin.
They entered. M. de Villefort, notwithstanding his self-control, was visibly affected, and when Monte Cristo touched his hand, he felt it tremble.
“Certainly, women alone know how to dissimulate,” said Monte Cristo to himself, glancing at Madame Danglars, who was smiling on the procureur, and embracing his wife.