“The daughter of M. de Villefort by his first marriage,” replied the young wife, “a fine well-grown girl.”

“But melancholy,” interrupted Master Edward, snatching the feathers out of the tail of a splendid parakeet that was screaming on its gilded perch, in order to make a plume for his hat.

Madame de Villefort merely cried, “Be still, Edward!” She then added, “This young madcap is, however, very nearly right, and merely reechoes what he has heard me say with pain a hundred times; for Mademoiselle de Villefort is, in spite of all we can do to rouse her, of a melancholy disposition and taciturn habit, which frequently injure the effect of her beauty. But what detains her? Go, Edward, and see.”

“Because they are looking for her where she is not to be found.”

“And where are they looking for her?”