What men call the chances of fate—namely, ruin, change, circumstances—I have fully anticipated, and if any of these should overtake me, yet it will not overwhelm me. Unless I die, I shall always be what I am, and therefore it is that I utter the things you have never heard, even from the mouths of kings—for kings have need, and other persons have fear of you. For who is there who does not say to himself, in a society as incongruously organized as ours, ‘Perhaps some day I shall have to do with the king’s attorney’?”
“But can you not say that, sir? The moment you become an inhabitant of France, you are naturally subjected to the French law.”
“I know it sir,” replied Monte Cristo;
“but when I visit a country I begin to study, by all the means which are available, the men from whom I may have anything to hope or to fear, till I know them as well as, perhaps better than, they know themselves. It follows from this, that the king’s attorney, be he who he may, with whom I should have to deal, would assuredly be more embarrassed than I should.”
“That is to say,” replied Villefort with hesitation, “that human nature being weak, every man, according to your creed, has committed faults.”
“Faults or crimes,” responded Monte Cristo with a negligent air.
“And that you alone, amongst the men whom you do not recognize as your brothers—for you have said so,” observed Villefort in a tone that faltered somewhat—“you alone are perfect.”
“No, not perfect,” was the count’s reply; “only impenetrable, that’s all. But let us leave off this strain, sir, if the tone of it is displeasing to you; I am no more disturbed by your justice than are you by my second-sight.”