“The baroness Danglars; you have seen me twenty times.”
“Possibly, madame. And now, what do you want?”
“Oh, how extraordinary! I shall complain to M. de Villefort of the impertinence of his servants.”
“Madame, this is precaution, not impertinence; no one enters here without an order from M. d’Avrigny, or without speaking to the procureur.”
“Well, I have business with the procureur.”
“Is it pressing business?”
“You can imagine so, since I have not even brought my carriage out yet. But enough of this—here is my card, take it to your master.”
“Madame will await my return?”
“Yes; go.”
The concierge closed the door, leaving Madame Danglars in the street. She had not long to wait; directly afterwards the door was opened wide enough to admit her, and when she had passed through, it was again shut. Without losing sight of her for an instant, the concierge took a whistle from his pocket as soon as they entered the court, and blew it. The valet de chambre appeared on the doorsteps.
“You will excuse this poor fellow, madame,” he said, as he preceded the baroness, “but his orders are precise, and M. de Villefort begged me to tell you that he could not act otherwise.”
In the court showing his merchandise, was a tradesman who had been admitted with the same precautions. The baroness ascended the steps;