The Count of Monte Cristo

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shoulders the only shawl she had taken away, and which accidentally
happened to be a valuable black cashmere. Albert gathered up his papers
hastily, rang the bell to pay the thirty francs he owed to the landlord,
and offering his arm to his mother, they descended the stairs. Some one
was walking down before them, and this person, hearing the rustling of a
silk dress, turned around. "Debray!" muttered Albert.

"You, Morcerf?" replied the secretary, resting on the stairs. Curiosity
had vanquished the desire of preserving his incognito, and he was
recognized. It was, indeed, strange in this unknown spot to find the
young man whose misfortunes had made so much noise in Paris.

"Morcerf!" repeated Debray. Then noticing in the dim light the still
youthful and veiled figure of Madame de Morcerf:--"Pardon me," he added
with a smile, "I leave you, Albert." Albert understood his thoughts.
"Mother," he said, turning towards Mercedes, "this is M. Debray,
secretary of the minister for the interior, once a friend of mine."