poetical ideas, he had gone into the garden, and was talking with Major Cavalcanti on the projected railway from Leghorn to Florence. Monte Cristo seemed in despair. He took the arm of Madame Danglars, and conducted her into the garden, where they found Danglars taking coffee between the Cavalcanti.
“Really, madame,” he said, “did I alarm you much?”
“Oh, no, sir,” she answered; “but you know, things impress us differently, according to the mood of our minds.” Villefort forced a laugh.
“And then, you know,” he said, “an idea, a supposition, is sufficient.”
“Well,” said Monte Cristo, “you may believe me if you like, but it is my opinion that a crime has been committed in this house.”
“Take care,” said Madame de Villefort, “the king’s attorney is here.”
“Ah,” replied Monte Cristo, “since that is the case, I will take advantage of his presence to make my declaration.”
“Your declaration?” said Villefort.
“Yes, before witnesses.”
“Oh, this is very interesting,” said Debray; “if there really has been a crime, we will investigate it.”
“There has been a crime,” said Monte Cristo. “Come this way, gentlemen; come, M. Villefort, for a declaration to be available, should be made before the competent authorities.”
He then took Villefort’s arm, and, at the same time, holding that of Madame Danglars under his own, he dragged the procureur to the plantain-tree, where the shade was thickest. All the other guests followed.