“No, it is the name of the island he has purchased.”
“And he is a count?”
“A Tuscan count.”
“Well, we must put up with that,” said the countess, who was herself from one of the oldest Venetian families. “What sort of a man is he?”
“Ask the Vicomte de Morcerf.”
“You hear, M. de Morcerf, I am referred to you,” said the countess.
“We should be very hard to please, madam,” returned Albert, “did we not think him delightful. A friend of ten years’ standing could not have done more for us, or with a more perfect courtesy.”
“Come,” observed the countess, smiling, “I see my vampire is only some millionaire, who has taken the appearance of Lara in order to avoid being confounded with M. de Rothschild; and you have