The Count of Monte Cristo

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"Oh, your excellency, it was not yours, then."

"Whose, then? The Marquis de Saint-Meran, I think, the concierge said.
What had you to revenge on the Marquis de Saint-Meran?"

"Oh, it was not on him, monsieur; it was on another."

"This is strange," returned Monte Cristo, seeming to yield to his
reflections, "that you should find yourself without any preparation in a
house where the event happened that causes you so much remorse."

"Monsieur," said the steward, "it is fatality, I am sure. First,
you purchase a house at Auteuil--this house is the one where I have
committed an assassination; you descend to the garden by the same
staircase by which he descended; you stop at the spot where he received
the blow; and two paces farther is the grave in which he had just buried
his child. This is not chance, for chance, in this case, is too much