"But it seems to me," Monte Cristo said, "and I must apologize for what I'm about to say, but if Monsieur Noirtier is disinheriting Mademoiselle de Villefort because she's marrying the son of a man he despised, he can't have the same complaint against dear Edward."

"True," Madame de Villefort said with an indescribable tone. "Isn't it unjust, shamefully unjust? Poor Edward is just as much Monsieur Noirtier's grandchild as Valentine. Yet if she hadn't been marrying Monsieur Franz, Monsieur Noirtier would have left her everything. And even if Valentine is disinherited by her grandfather, she'll still be three times richer than Edward."

The count listened but said nothing more.

"Count," Villefort said, "we won't burden you any longer with our family troubles. It's true that my inheritance will go to charitable institutions, and my father will have deprived me of my lawful inheritance without justification. But I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I acted like a man of sense and integrity. Monsieur d'Epinay, to whom I'd promised financial security, shall receive it, even if I must endure the cruelest hardships."

"However," Madame de Villefort said, returning to the idea that obsessed her, "perhaps it would be better to explain this unfortunate situation to Monsieur d'Epinay, giving him the opportunity to renounce his claim to Mademoiselle de Villefort's hand himself."

"Ah, that would be a great pity," Villefort said.

"A great pity indeed," Monte Cristo echoed.

"Undoubtedly," Villefort said, moderating his voice. "A marriage once arranged and then broken off throws discredit on a young lady. The old rumors I was so anxious to silence would immediately resurface. No, everything will work out. Monsieur d'Epinay, if he's an honorable man, will consider himself more committed than ever to Mademoiselle de Villefort, unless he's driven purely by greed, which is impossible."

"I agree with Monsieur de Villefort," Monte Cristo said, fixing his eyes on Madame de Villefort. "And if I were close enough to him to offer advice, I would urge him, since I'm told Monsieur d'Epinay is returning soon, to settle this matter immediately and irreversibly. I guarantee the success of a plan that will reflect such honor on Monsieur de Villefort."

The prosecutor rose, delighted with the suggestion, though his wife's color changed slightly.

"Well, that's exactly what I wanted," he said, extending his hand to Monte Cristo. "Let everyone here consider today's events as if they never happened, as if we never even thought of changing our original plans."

"Sir," the count said, "the world, unjust as it is, will appreciate your resolution. Your friends will be proud of you, and Monsieur d'Epinay, even if he were to marry Mademoiselle de Villefort without a dowry, which won't happen, would be honored to enter a family capable of such sacrifices to keep a promise and fulfill a duty."

As he finished speaking, the count rose to leave.

"Are you leaving us, Count?" Madame de Villefort asked.

"I'm afraid I must, madame. I only came to remind you of your promise for Saturday."

"Did you fear we would forget?"

"You're very kind, madame, but Monsieur de Villefort has so many important and urgent responsibilities."

"My husband gave his word, sir," Madame de Villefort said. "You just saw him resolve to keep it when he had everything to lose. Surely there's even more reason for him to keep it when he has everything to gain."

"And," Villefort said, "is it at your house on the main boulevard that you receive visitors?"

"No," Monte Cristo said, "which makes your kindness even more meaningful, it's in the countryside."

"The countryside?"

"Yes."

"Where? Near the city?"

"Very near. Only half a mile from the gates, it's in Auteuil."

"Auteuil?" Villefort said. "That's right, Madame de Villefort mentioned you lived in Auteuil, since it was to your house that she was brought. What part of Auteuil do you live in?"

"Fountain Street."

"Fountain Street!" Villefort exclaimed in an agitated tone. "What number?"

"Number twenty-eight."

"Then," Villefort cried, "you're the one who bought Monsieur de Saint-Méran's house!"

"Did it belong to Monsieur de Saint-Méran?" Monte Cristo asked.

"Yes," Madame de Villefort replied. "And would you believe it, Count-"

"Believe what?"

"You think the house is pretty, don't you?"

"I think it's charming."

"Well, my husband would never live in it."

"Indeed?" Monte Cristo said. "That's a prejudice, Monsieur de Villefort, that I'm at a loss to understand."

"I don't like Auteuil, sir," the prosecutor said, making a visible effort to appear calm.

"But I hope you won't carry your dislike so far as to deprive me of your company, sir," Monte Cristo said.

"No, Count. I hope, I assure you I'll do my best," Villefort stammered.

"Oh," Monte Cristo said, "I accept no excuses. Saturday at six o'clock. I'll be expecting you, and if you fail to come, I'll think that this house, which has remained empty for twenty years, must have some dark history or dreadful legend attached to it."

"I'll come, Count. I'll definitely come," Villefort said eagerly.

"Thank you," Monte Cristo said. "Now you must permit me to take my leave."

"You mentioned earlier that you needed to leave, monsieur," Madame de Villefort said, "and you were about to tell us why when the subject changed."

"Indeed, madame," Monte Cristo said. "I hardly know if I dare tell you where I'm going."

"Nonsense. Tell us."

"Well then, I'm going to see something I've spent hours contemplating."

"What is it?"

"A telegraph tower. So now I've revealed my secret."

"A telegraph?" Madame de Villefort repeated.

"Yes, a telegraph. I've often seen one positioned at the end of a road on a hilltop. In the sunlight, its black arms bending in every direction always reminded me of an enormous beetle's claws. I assure you, I never looked at it without emotion. I couldn't help thinking how wonderful it was that these various signals could slice through the air with such precision, conveying the thoughts and desires of a man sitting at a table at one end of the line to another man similarly positioned at the opposite end, and all accomplished by a simple act of will from the sender. I began imagining spirits and magical creatures, all the agents of occult sciences, until I laughed at my own wild imagination. Now, it never occurred to me to wish for a closer look at these large insects with their long black claws. I always feared I'd find beneath their stone wings some poor exhausted human genius, worn down by political intrigues and government schemes. But one day I learned that the operator of this telegraph was just a poor wretch, hired for a pittance and employed all day, not studying the heavens like an astronomer, or watching the water like a fisherman, or even enjoying the view of the surrounding countryside. His entire monotonous life was spent watching his white-bellied, black-clawed fellow insect four or five miles away. Eventually, I felt a desire to study this living creature more closely and understand the secret role played by these insect-actors when they're simply pulling different pieces of string."

"And you're going there now?"

"I am."

"Which telegraph do you plan to visit? The one for the home department or the observatory?"

"Oh, no! I'd find people there who would force me to understand things I'd prefer to remain ignorant about. They'd try to explain mysteries even they don't understand despite themselves. Good heavens! I want to keep my illusions about insects intact. It's quite enough to have lost my illusions about my fellow humans. So I won't visit either of those telegraphs, but one in the open country where I'll find a good-natured simpleton who knows no more than the machine he operates."

"You're an unusual man," Villefort said.

"Which line would you recommend I study?"

"The one most in use right now."

"The Spanish line, you mean?"

"Yes. Would you like a letter to the minister so they can explain-"

"No," Monte Cristo said. "As I told you, I don't wish to understand it. The moment I understand it, there will no longer be a telegraph for me. It'll be nothing more than a message from one official transmitted to another, stripped of mystery by technical terms. It's the insect with black claws and the sense of wonder that I want to preserve in my imagination in all its purity and importance."

"Go then, because in two hours it'll be dark and you won't be able to see anything."

"My word, you're frightening me. Which is the nearest route? The road to the southern border?"

"Yes, the southern border road."

"And then the secondary route?"

"Yes."

"By the old tower, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. Goodbye. On Saturday I'll share my impressions about the telegraph."

At the door, the count encountered the two notaries who had just completed the document that would disinherit Valentine. They were leaving with the conviction that they'd done something that would considerably enhance their professional reputation.