At the look of displeasure, added to the angry tone in which the count spoke, Ali turned pale and held down his head.

“It is not your fault, my good Ali,” said the count in the Arabic language, and with a gentleness none would have thought him capable of showing, either in voice or face⁠—“it is not your fault. You do not understand the points of English horses.”

The countenance of poor Ali recovered its serenity.

“Permit me to assure your excellency,” said Bertuccio, “that the horses you speak of were not to be sold when I purchased yours.”

Monte Cristo shrugged his shoulders. “It seems, sir steward,” said he, “that you have yet to learn that all things are to be sold to such as care to pay the price.”

“His excellency is not, perhaps, aware that M. Danglars gave 16,000 francs for his horses?”