“My dappled grays?” demanded the baroness, springing to the window. “ ’Tis indeed they!” said she.
Danglars looked absolutely stupefied.
“How very singular,” cried Monte Cristo with well-feigned astonishment.
“I cannot believe it,” murmured the banker. Madame Danglars whispered a few words in the ear of Debray, who approached Monte Cristo, saying, “The baroness wishes to know what you paid her husband for the horses.”
“I scarcely know,” replied the count; “it was a little surprise prepared for me by my steward, and cost me—well, somewhere about 30,000 francs.”
Debray conveyed the count’s reply to the baroness. Poor Danglars looked so crestfallen and discomfited that Monte Cristo assumed a pitying air towards him.
“See,” said the count, “how very ungrateful women are. Your kind attention, in providing for the safety of the baroness by disposing of the horses, does not seem to have made the least impression on her. But so it is; a woman will often, from mere wilfulness, prefer that which is dangerous to that which is safe. Therefore, in my opinion, my dear baron, the best and easiest way is to leave them to their fancies, and allow them to act as they please, and then, if any mischief follows, why, at least, they have no one to blame but themselves.”
Danglars made no reply; he was occupied in anticipations of the coming scene between himself and the baroness, whose frowning brow, like that of Olympic Jove, predicted a storm. Debray, who perceived the gathering clouds, and felt no desire to witness the explosion of Madame Danglars’ rage, suddenly recollected an