“Grenoble and Lyons are faithful cities, and will oppose to him an impassable barrier.”
“Grenoble will open her gates to him with enthusiasm—all Lyons will hasten to welcome him. Believe me, we are as well informed as you, and our police are as good as your own. Would you like a proof of it? well, you wished to conceal your journey from me, and yet I knew of your arrival half an hour after you had passed the barrier. You gave your direction to no one but your postilion, yet I have your address, and in proof I am here the very instant you are going to sit at table. Ring, then, if you please, for a second knife, fork, and plate, and we will dine together.”
“Indeed!” replied Villefort, looking at his father with astonishment, “you really do seem very well informed.”
“Eh? the thing is simple enough. You who are in power have only the means that money produces—we who are in expectation, have those which devotion prompts.”
“Devotion!” said Villefort, with a sneer.
“Yes, devotion; for that is, I believe, the phrase for hopeful ambition.”
And Villefort’s father extended his hand to the bell-rope, to summon the servant whom his son had not called. Villefort caught his arm.
“Wait, my dear father,” said the young man, “one word more.”
“Say on.”
“However stupid the royalist police may be, they do know one terrible thing.”
“What is that?”