The Count of Monte Cristo

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bearing, a look either steady and impenetrable or insolently piercing
and inquisitorial. Four successive revolutions had built and cemented
the pedestal upon which his fortune was based. M. de Villefort had the
reputation of being the least curious and the least wearisome man in
France. He gave a ball every year, at which he appeared for a quarter of
an hour only,--that is to say, five and forty minutes less than the king
is visible at his balls. He was never seen at the theatres, at concerts,
or in any place of public resort. Occasionally, but seldom, he played
at whist, and then care was taken to select partners worthy of
him--sometimes they were ambassadors, sometimes archbishops, or
sometimes a prince, or a president, or some dowager duchess. Such was
the man whose carriage had just now stopped before the Count of Monte
Cristo's door. The valet de chambre announced M. de Villefort at the
moment when the count, leaning over a large table, was tracing on a map
the route from St. Petersburg to China.

The procureur entered with the same grave and measured step he would