The Count of Monte Cristo

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that the count has rendered me any ostensible service. Still, as I have
already told you I have an instinctive affection for him, the source of
which I cannot explain to you. Has the sun done anything for me? No; he
warms me with his rays, and it is by his light that I see you--nothing
more. Has such and such a perfume done anything for me? No; its odor
charms one of my senses--that is all I can say when I am asked why I
praise it. My friendship for him is as strange and unaccountable as
his for me. A secret voice seems to whisper to me that there must be
something more than chance in this unexpected reciprocity of friendship.
In his most simple actions, as well as in his most secret thoughts, I
find a relation to my own. You will perhaps smile at me when I tell you
that, ever since I have known this man, I have involuntarily entertained
the idea that all the good fortune which has befallen me originated
from him. However, I have managed to live thirty years without this
protection, you will say; but I will endeavor a little to illustrate my
meaning. He invited me to dine with him on Saturday, which was a very
natural thing for him to do. Well, what have I learned since? That your