“The other night she left.”

“With Madame Danglars?”

“No, with a relation. But still, we have quite lost our dear Eugénie; for I doubt whether her pride will ever allow her to return to France.”

“Still, baron,” said Monte Cristo, “family griefs, or indeed any other affliction which would crush a man whose child was his only treasure, are endurable to a millionaire. Philosophers may well say, and practical men will always support the opinion, that money mitigates many trials; and if you admit the efficacy of this sovereign balm, you ought to be very easily consoled⁠—you, the king of finance, the focus of immeasurable power.”

Danglars looked at him askance, as though to ascertain whether he spoke seriously.

“Yes,” he answered, “if a fortune brings consolation, I ought to be consoled; I am rich.”