The Count of Monte Cristo

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white waistcoat, over which was displayed a massive gold chain, brown
trousers, and a quantity of black hair descending so low over his
eyebrows as to leave it doubtful whether it were not artificial so
little did its jetty glossiness assimilate with the deep wrinkles
stamped on his features--a person, in a word, who, although evidently
past fifty, desired to be taken for not more than forty, bent forwards
from the carriage door, on the panels of which were emblazoned the
armorial bearings of a baron, and directed his groom to inquire at the
porter's lodge whether the Count of Monte Cristo resided there, and if
he were within. While waiting, the occupant of the carriage surveyed the
house, the garden as far as he could distinguish it, and the livery
of servants who passed to and fro, with an attention so close as to be
somewhat impertinent. His glance was keen but showed cunning rather than
intelligence; his lips were straight, and so thin that, as they closed,
they were drawn in over the teeth; his cheek-bones were broad and
projecting, a never-failing proof of audacity and craftiness; while the
flatness of his forehead, and the enlargement of the back of his skull,