The Count of Monte Cristo

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was performing,--a make-up he had adopted and which suited him about as
well as the masks worn on the classic stage by paternal actors, who seen
from one side, were the image of geniality, and from the other showed
lips drawn down in chronic ill-temper. Let us hasten to say that in
private the genial side descended to the level of the other, so that
generally the indulgent man disappeared to give place to the brutal
husband and domineering father. "Why the devil does that foolish girl,
who pretends to wish to speak to me, not come into my study? and why on
earth does she want to speak to me at all?"

He was turning this thought over in his brain for the twentieth time,
when the door opened and Eugenie appeared, attired in a figured black
satin dress, her hair dressed and gloves on, as if she were going to the
Italian Opera. "Well, Eugenie, what is it you want with me? and why in
this solemn drawing-room when the study is so comfortable?"

"I quite understand why you ask, sir," said Eugenie, making a sign that