Danglars said nothing. He was already dreading the inevitable fight with his wife, whose expression promised a major storm. Debray, sensing the gathering tension and having no desire to witness his friend’s rage, suddenly remembered an urgent appointment and excused himself. Monte Cristo, not wanting to overstay his welcome and ruin the advantages he hoped to gain, made his farewells and departed, leaving Danglars to face his wife’s fury alone. "Excellent," Monte Cristo murmured to himself as he left. "Everything went exactly as planned. The peace of this household is now in my hands. Next, I’ll make another move that will win me the gratitude of both husband and wife, delightful! Though," he added with his peculiar smile, "I still haven’t met their daughter, Mademoiselle Eugénie Danglars. I would have liked to make her acquaintance. But I’m here in the city now, with plenty of time ahead of me. That can wait." With these thoughts, he entered his carriage and went home. Two hours later, Madame Danglars received a flattering letter from the count. He begged her to take back her beloved dappled grays, explaining that he couldn’t bear to make his debut in high society knowing his splendid carriage had cost a lovely woman her happiness. The horses were returned wearing the same harness she’d seen that morning, except the count had ordered a large diamond fastened to the center of each decorative rosette on their heads. Monte Cristo also wrote to Danglars, asking him to excuse this whimsical gift from a capricious millionaire, and to beg the baroness to forgive the Eastern custom of returning gifts with added luxury. That evening, Monte Cristo left for his country house in Auteuil, accompanied by his servant Ali. The next day, around three o’clock, a single gong strike summoned Ali to the count’s presence. "Ali," the count said as his servant entered, "you’ve often demonstrated your exceptional skill with the lasso, haven’t you?" Ali drew himself up proudly and nodded. Google seaʀᴄh 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝·𝘧𝙞𝙧𝙚·𝔫𝔢𝔱 "I thought so. With your lasso, could you stop an ox?" Ali sprang forward, miming the action of throwing a lasso and strangling a lion. "I understand, you’re telling me you’ve hunted lions?" Ali smiled with triumphant pride, indicating he’d chased and captured many. "But do you believe you could stop two horses running at full, uncontrollable speed?" The servant smiled confidently. "Good. Listen carefully. Soon a carriage will come racing past here, pulled by those dappled gray horses you saw me with yesterday. At the risk of your own life, you must stop those horses right in front of my door." Ali went down to the street and drew a straight line on the pavement directly at the house entrance, pointing it out to the count, who watched from above. The count patted him gently on the shoulder, his usual way of praising Ali. Pleased with his assignment, Ali walked calmly to a projecting stone at the corner and sat down to smoke his pipe, while Monte Cristo went back inside, completely confident in his plan’s success. Still, as five o’clock approached and the carriage was due any moment, signs of unusual impatience and anxiety showed in the count’s manner. He positioned himself in a room overlooking the street, pacing restlessly, stopping only to listen for approaching wheels or to glance anxiously at Ali. But the steady puffs of smoke from Ali’s pipe showed he was completely absorbed in his favorite activity. Suddenly, the distant sound of rapidly approaching wheels broke the silence. Almost immediately, a carriage appeared, drawn by two wild, uncontrollable horses, while the terrified driver struggled in vain to slow their frenzied pace. Inside the carriage sat a young woman and a child of about seven or eight, clutching each other. Terror had stolen even their ability to scream. The carriage creaked and rattled as it flew over the rough stones, the slightest obstacle would have meant disaster. Those who saw it pass cried out in fear. Ali suddenly tossed aside his pipe, pulled the lasso from his pocket, and threw it with such skill that it caught the front legs of the nearest horse in its coils. He let himself be dragged forward a few steps by the violent momentum, then the animal fell against the center pole, which snapped, preventing the other horse from continuing. The driver leaped from his seat, but Ali had already seized the nostrils of the second horse, holding them in an iron grip until the beast, snorting with pain, collapsed beside its companion. All this happened in seconds. A man, followed by several servants, rushed from the house. As the driver opened the carriage door, the man helped out a lady who was convulsively gripping the cushions with one hand while pressing a young boy to her chest with the other. The child had lost consciousness. Monte Cristo carried them both into his sitting room and placed them on a sofa. "Calm yourself, madame," he said. "All danger is past." The woman looked up at these words and, with a glance more expressive than any words, pointed to her child, who remained unconscious. "I understand your concern, madame," the count said, carefully examining the child. "But I assure you there’s no cause for worry. Your little one hasn’t been injured at all. His unconsciousness is merely from shock and will soon pass." "Are you sure you’re not just saying that to comfort me? Look how deathly pale he is! My child, my darling Edward, speak to your mother, open your eyes! Sir, please send for a doctor! I’ll pay anything for my boy’s recovery!" With a calm smile and gentle wave of his hand, Monte Cristo signaled the distraught mother to set aside her fears. Opening a nearby case, he took out a Bohemian glass vial encrusted with gold, containing a blood-red liquid. He let a single drop fall onto the child’s lips. Almost instantly, though still pale as marble, the boy opened his eyes and looked around eagerly. The mother’s joy was overwhelming. "Where am I?" she exclaimed. "Who do I have to thank for saving us from that terrible ordeal?" "Madame," the count answered, "you’re in the home of someone who considers himself fortunate to have been able to help you." "My foolish curiosity caused all this," the lady continued. "Everyone in the city was praising Madame Danglars’ beautiful horses, and I was silly enough to want to see if they deserved such high praise." "Is it possible," the count exclaimed with well-acted astonishment, "that those horses belong to the baroness?" "They do indeed. Are you acquainted with Madame Danglars?" "I have that honor. And my happiness at your escape is doubled by realizing that I was the unwitting cause of your danger. I bought those horses from the baron yesterday, but since the baroness clearly regretted losing them, I took the liberty of sending them back to her as a gift." "Then you must be the Count of Monte Cristo, whom Hermine has told me so much about?" "You’ve guessed correctly, madame." "And I am Madame Héloïse de Villefort." The count bowed as if hearing the name for the first time. "How grateful Monsieur de Villefort will be for your kindness! How thankfully he’ll acknowledge that he owes you his wife and child’s lives! Without your brave servant’s quick action, this dear child and I would both have died." "Indeed, I still shudder at the terrible danger you faced." "I hope you’ll allow me to properly reward your servant’s devotion." "I beg you, madame," Monte Cristo replied, "not to spoil Ali with excessive praise or rewards. I can’t have him expecting payment for every small service. Ali is my slave, and in saving your life he was simply doing his duty to me." "But consider," Madame de Villefort interjected, clearly impressed by the count’s authoritative manner, "he risked his own life to save mine." "His life, madame, doesn’t belong to him, it’s mine, in return for my having saved him from death."