“Oh, no,” said Villefort; “I never ceased to search and to inquire. However, the last two or three years I had allowed myself some respite. But now I will begin with more perseverance and fury than ever, since fear urges me, not my conscience.”
“But,” replied Madame Danglars, “the Count of Monte Cristo can know nothing, or he would not seek our society as he does.”
“Oh, the wickedness of man is very great,” said Villefort, “since it surpasses the goodness of God. Did you observe that man’s eyes while he was speaking to us?”
“No.”
“But have you ever watched him carefully?”
“Doubtless he is capricious, but that is all; one thing alone struck me—of all the exquisite things he placed before us, he touched nothing. I might have suspected he was poisoning us.”
“And you see you would have been deceived.”
“Yes, doubtless.”
“But believe me, that man has other projects. For that reason I wished to see you, to speak to you, to warn you against everyone, but especially against him. Tell me,” cried Villefort, fixing his eyes more steadfastly on her than he had ever done before, “did you ever reveal to anyone our connection?”
“Never, to anyone.”
“You understand me,” replied Villefort, affectionately; “when I say anyone—pardon my urgency—to anyone living I mean?”