At these words Bertuccio turned pale.

“And where is Auteuil?” asked the count.

“Close by here, monsieur,” replied the notary⁠—“a little beyond Passy; a charming situation, in the heart of the Bois de Boulogne.”

“So near as that?” said the Count; “but that is not in the country. What made you choose a house at the gates of Paris, M. Bertuccio?”

“I,” cried the steward with a strange expression. “His excellency did not charge me to purchase this house. If his excellency will recollect⁠—if he will think⁠—”

“Ah, true,” observed Monte Cristo; “I recollect now. I read the advertisement in one of the papers, and was tempted by the false title, ‘a country house.’ ”