as he took off his dress, carefully preserved the bunch of violets; it was his token reserved for the morrow.
The two friends sat down to table; but they could not refrain from remarking the difference between the Count of Monte Cristo’s table and that of Signor Pastrini.
Truth compelled Franz, in spite of the dislike he seemed to have taken to the count, to confess that the advantage was not on Pastrini’s side.
During dessert, the servant inquired at what time they wished for the carriage. Albert and Franz looked at each other, fearing really to abuse the count’s kindness. The servant understood them.
“His excellency the Count of Monte Cristo had,” he said, “given positive orders that the carriage was to remain at their lordships’ orders all day, and they