The Count of Monte Cristo

Back Forward Menu

usual paving-stones, half hidden by the grass, there extended a lawn but
that morning laid down, and upon which the water was yet glistening. For
the rest, the orders had been issued by the count; he himself had given
a plan to Bertuccio, marking the spot where each tree was to be planted,
and the shape and extent of the lawn which was to take the place of the
paving-stones. Thus the house had become unrecognizable, and Bertuccio
himself declared that he scarcely knew it, encircled as it was by a
framework of trees. The overseer would not have objected, while he was
about it, to have made some improvements in the garden, but the count
had positively forbidden it to be touched. Bertuccio made amends,
however, by loading the ante-chambers, staircases, and mantle-pieces
with flowers.

What, above all, manifested the shrewdness of the steward, and the
profound science of the master, the one in carrying out the ideas of the
other, was that this house which appeared only the night before so sad
and gloomy, impregnated with that sickly smell one can almost fancy to