was thickest. All the other guests followed.
“Stay,” said Monte Cristo, “here, in this very spot” (and he stamped upon the ground), “I had the earth dug up and fresh mould put in, to refresh these old trees; well, my man, digging, found a box, or rather, the ironwork of a box, in the midst of which was the skeleton of a newly born infant.”
Monte Cristo felt the arm of Madame Danglars stiffen, while that of Villefort trembled.
“A newly born infant,” repeated Debray; “this affair becomes serious!”
“Well,” said Château-Renaud, “I was not wrong just now then, when I said that houses had souls and faces like men, and that their exteriors carried the impress of their characters. This house was gloomy because it was remorseful: it was remorseful because it concealed a crime.”