“What is the matter?” said the count.
“That woman—that woman!”
“Which?”
“The one with a white dress and so many diamonds—the fair one.”
“Madame Danglars?”
“I do not know her name; but it is she, sir, it is she!”
“Whom do you mean?”
“The woman of the garden!—she that was enceinte—she who was walking while she waited for—”
Bertuccio stood at the open door, with his eyes starting and his hair on end.
“Waiting for whom?”
Bertuccio, without answering, pointed to Villefort with something of the gesture Macbeth uses to point out Banquo.
“Oh, oh!” he at length muttered, “do you see?”
“What? Who?”
“Him!”
“Him!— M. de Villefort, the king’s attorney? Certainly I see him.”
“Then I did not kill him?”
“Really, I think you are going mad, good Bertuccio,” said the count.