“That is possible,” said the countess, reflecting.

“Never mind,” continued the young man, “smuggler or not, you must agree, mother dear, as you have seen him, that the Count of Monte Cristo is a remarkable man, who will have the greatest success in the salons of Paris. Why, this very morning, in my rooms, he made his entrée amongst us by striking every man of us with amazement, not even excepting Château-Renaud.”

“And what do you suppose is the count’s age?” inquired Mercédès, evidently attaching great importance to this question.

“Thirty-five or thirty-six, mother.”

“So young⁠—it is impossible,” said Mercédès, replying at the same time to what Albert said as well as to her own private reflection.