"He is entirely upset of late. I have just taken his education in hand."
Carmen seemed trying to recall something.
"The Count of Monte-Cristo is the person who met with such a series of incredible adventures, and is named Edmond Dantès?" she asked.
"Yes, you are right."
"And tell me, if you can—excuse the question—if Monsieur de Laisangy had ever any relations with him?"
"Ah! that I cannot say. Your father has not been in Paris for some years, and the Count has been here very little of late. But I can easily find out for you."
"No, no—pray make no inquiries!" said Carmen, eagerly. "But the terrace—where is it?"
"Here it is!" answered Goutran, raising a curtain.
The apartment that Goutran occupied was on the second floor, and the terrace, of which he had spoken so slightingly, was draped with clematis, and commanded a beautiful view down the avenue to the Place de la Concorde.
The evening was calm and the air delicious. Carmen certainly deserved to be called imprudent. She looked very lovely in the moonlight, and Goutran was young and passionately in love. Carmen still leaned on his arm. She murmured softly: