The clock struck half-past six, and a lady was announced, a friend of Madame de Villefort, who came to dine with her.
“If I had had the honor of seeing you for the third or fourth time, count, instead of only for the second,” said Madame de Villefort; “if I had had the honor of being your friend, instead of only having the happiness of being under an obligation to you, I should insist on detaining you to dinner, and not allow myself to be daunted by a first refusal.”
“A thousand thanks, madame,” replied Monte Cristo “but I have an engagement which I cannot break. I have promised to escort to the Académie a Greek princess of my acquaintance who has never seen your grand opera, and who relies on me to conduct her thither.”
“Adieu, then, sir, and do not forget the prescription.”
“Ah, in truth, madame, to do that I must forget the hour’s conversation I have had with you, which is indeed impossible.”
Monte Cristo bowed, and left the house. Madame de Villefort remained immersed in thought.
“He is a very strange man,” she said, “and in my opinion is himself the Adelmonte he talks about.”
As to Monte Cristo the result had surpassed his utmost expectations.
“Good,” said he, as he went away; “this is a fruitful soil, and I feel certain that the seed sown will not be cast on barren ground.”
Next morning, faithful to his promise, he sent the prescription requested.