The Count of Monte Cristo

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remembrance of guilty, yet happy days. M. de Villefort would stifle the
affair; he had only to turn his eyes on one side, and allow Andrea to
fly, and follow up the crime under that shadow of guilt called contempt
of court. And after this reasoning she slept easily.

At nine o'clock next morning she arose, and without ringing for her maid
or giving the least sign of her activity, she dressed herself in the
same simple style as on the previous night; then running down-stairs,
she left the hotel, walked to the Rue de Provence, called a cab, and
drove to M. de Villefort's house. For the last month this wretched house
had presented the gloomy appearance of a lazaretto infected with the
plague. Some of the apartments were closed within and without; the
shutters were only opened to admit a minute's air, showing the scared
face of a footman, and immediately afterwards the window would be
closed, like a gravestone falling on a sepulchre, and the neighbors
would say to each other in a low voice, "Will there be another funeral
to-day at the procureur's house?" Madame Danglars involuntarily