is Andrea Cavalcanti?" asked Danglars in amazement.

"A galley-slave, escaped from confinement at Toulon."

"And what crime has he committed?"

"He is accused," said the commissary with his inflexible
voice, "of having assassinated the man named Caderousse, his
former companion in prison, at the moment he was making his
escape from the house of the Count of Monte Cristo." Monte
Cristo cast a rapid glance around him. Andrea was gone.



Chapter 97
The Departure for Belgium.

A few minutes after the scene of confusion produced in the
salons of M. Danglars by the unexpected appearance of the
brigade of soldiers, and by the disclosure which had
followed, the mansion was deserted with as much rapidity as
if a case of plague or of cholera morbus had broken out
among the guests. In a few minutes, through all the doors,
down all the staircases, by every exit, every one hastened
to retire, or rather to fly; for it was a situation where
the ordinary condolences, -- which even the best friends are
so eager to offer in great catastrophes, -- were seen to be
utterly futile. There remained in the banker's house only
Danglars, closeted in his study, and making his statement to
the officer of gendarmes; Madame Danglars, terrified, in the
boudoir with which we are acquainted; and Eugenie, who with
haughty air and disdainful lip had retired to her room with
her inseparable companion, Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly. As
for the numerous servants (more numerous that evening than
usual, for their number was augmented by cooks and butlers
from the Cafe de Paris), venting on their employers their
anger at what they termed the insult to which they had been
subjected, they collected in groups in the hall, in the
kitchens, or in their rooms, thinking very little of their
duty, which was thus naturally interrupted. Of all this
household, only two persons deserve our notice; these are
Mademoiselle Eugenie Danglars and Mademoiselle Louise
d'Armilly.

The betrothed had retired, as we said, with haughty air,
disdainful lip, and the demeanor of an outraged queen,
followed by her companion, who was paler and more disturbed
than herself. On reaching her room Eugenie locked her door,
while Louise fell on a chair. "Ah, what a dreadful thing,"
said the young musician; "who would have suspected it? M.
Andrea Cavalcanti a murderer -- a galley-slave escaped -- a
convict!" An ironical smile curled the lip of Eugenie. "In
truth I was fated," said she. "I escaped the Morcerf only to
fall into the Cavalcanti."

"Oh, do not confound the two, Eugenie."

"Hold your tongue! The men are all infamous, and I am happy
to be able now to do more than detest them -- I despise
them."

"What shall we do?" asked Louise.

"What shall we do?"

"Yes."

"Why, the same we had intended doing three days since -- set
off."

"What? -- although you are not now going to be married, you
intend still" --

"Listen, Louise. I hate this life of the fashionable world,
always ordered, measured, ruled, like our music-paper. What
I have always wished for, desired, and coveted, is the life
of an artist, free and independent, relying only on my own
resources, and accountable only to myself. Remain here? What
for? -- that they may try, a month hence, to marry me again;
and to whom? -- M. Debray, perhaps, as it was once proposed.
No, Louise, no! This evening's adventure will serve for my
excuse. I did not seek one, I did not ask for one. God sends
me this, and I hail it joyfully!"

"How strong and courageous you are!" said the fair, frail
girl to her brunette companion.

"Did you not yet know me? Come, Louise, let us talk of our
affairs. The post-chaise" --

"Was happily bought three days since."

"Have you had it sent where we are to go for it?"

"Yes."

"Our passport?"

"Here it is."



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