“And why should he not have this?” asked the owner; “he is young, it is true, but he seems to me a thorough seaman, and of full experience.”
A cloud passed over Danglars’ brow.
“Your pardon, M. Morrel,” said Dantès, approaching, “the vessel now rides at anchor, and I am at your service. You hailed me, I think?”
Danglars retreated a step or two.
“I wished to inquire why you stopped at the Island of Elba?”
“I do not know, sir; it was to fulfil the last instructions of Captain Leclère, who, when dying, gave me a packet for Marshal Bertrand.”
“Then did you see him, Edmond?”
“Who?”
“The marshal.”
“Yes.”
Morrel looked around him, and then, drawing Dantès on one side, he said suddenly—
“And how is the emperor?”
“Very well, as far as I could judge from the sight of him.”
“You saw the emperor, then?”
“He entered the marshal’s apartment while I was there.”
“And you spoke to him?”
“Why, it was he who spoke to me, sir,” said Dantès, with a smile.