“I think so. Two legs and two arms are the usual complement, I believe.”
“No gashes in your head or back?”
“No, I think not. Oh, there is my hat!” and he stepped forward and picked it up.
“Well,” cried the Admiral, “it is really the most re-mark-a-ble preservation from death I ever heard of in all my life.”
“I must trouble you, Admiral Enright,” said M. Villefort, “to assist me in getting Count Mont d’Oro to his carriage. For reasons which you can understand, I do not wish to call the coachman, who is unaware of the nature of our visit here at this unseemly hour.”
“Certainly,” said the Admiral, “in the hour of defeat, the unfortunate can always count upon my sympathy and assistance.”
Supported by the two men, the Count limped slowly towards the door, evidently suffering greatly. Before he reached it, Victor stepped forward:
“Do you acknowledge satisfaction, Count Mont d’Oro?”
The Count’s face was contorted with pain and, for a moment, he did not reply. Then, he almost hissed out the words:
“From an English point of view—yes—but not from a Corsican. We shall meet again!”