The breakfast room was finished in oak, the living room in mahogany with blue velvet furnishings, and the bedroom featured green damask. There was even a study for Emmanuel, who never studied, and a music room for Julie, who never played. The entire second floor belonged to Maximilian, with rooms similar to his sister’s, except he had a billiard room instead of a breakfast parlor, where he entertained his friends. When the Count’s carriage stopped at the gate, Maximilian was outside supervising the grooming of his horse and smoking a cigar. Cocles opened the gate, and the Count’s servant, Baptistin, jumped down from the carriage to inquire whether Monsieur and Madame Herbault and Monsieur Maximilian Morrel would receive his excellency, the Count of Monte Cristo. "The Count of Monte Cristo?" Morrel cried, throwing away his cigar and rushing to the carriage. "Of course we’ll see him! Thank you a thousand times, Count, for not forgetting your promise!" The young officer shook the Count’s hand so warmly that Monte Cristo couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his welcome. He’d clearly been expected with impatience and was being received with genuine pleasure. "Come with me!" said Maximilian. "I’ll be your guide. A man like you shouldn’t be announced by a servant. My sister is in the garden cutting dead roses, and my brother-in-law is reading his newspapers within six steps of her. Wherever you find Madame Herbault, you only need to look within a few yards to find Emmanuel, and vice versa, as they say at the engineering school." At the sound of their footsteps, a young woman of twenty-four or twenty-five, dressed in a silk morning gown and busy removing dead leaves from a climbing rose, looked up. This was Julie, now Madame Emmanuel Herbault, just as predicted years ago. She gave a cry of surprise at seeing a stranger, and Maximilian laughed. "Don’t worry, Julie," he said. "The Count has only been in Paris two or three days, but he already understands the life of a fashionable woman in our neighborhood, and if he doesn’t, you can show him." "Ah, monsieur," Julie replied, "it’s treachery of my brother to bring you ! He never has any regard for his poor sister. Penelon! Penelon!" The rıghtful source is 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅✦𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾✦𝗇𝖾𝗍 An old man who had been digging in one of the flower beds stuck his spade in the earth and approached, cap in hand, trying to hide the tobacco he’d just stuffed in his cheek. A few gray locks mingled with his still-thick hair, and his weathered features and determined expression clearly marked him as an old sailor who had braved tropical heat and ocean storms. "I think you called me, Miss Julie?" he said. Penelon still called his former master’s daughter by her maiden name and had never been able to switch to "Madame Herbault." "Penelon," Julie said, "go tell Emmanuel about our guest’s arrival. Maximilian will escort him to the living room." Turning to Monte Cristo, she added, "I hope you’ll forgive me for leaving you for a few minutes." Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared behind a clump of trees and escaped into the house through a side path. "I’m sorry to see that I’m causing such a disturbance in your home," Monte Cristo observed to Morrel. "Look there," said Maximilian, laughing. "There’s her husband changing his jacket for a proper coat. I assure you, you’re well known on Rue Meslay." "Your family seems very happy," the Count said, as if speaking to himself. "Oh yes, I assure you, Count, they have everything they need to be happy. They’re young and cheerful, deeply devoted to each other, and with twenty-five thousand francs a year, they consider themselves as wealthy as the Rothschilds." "Twenty-five thousand francs isn’t a large sum, however," Monte Cristo replied in such a sweet and gentle tone that it touched Maximilian’s heart like a father’s voice. "But they won’t be satisfied with just that. Is your brother-in-law a lawyer? A doctor?" "He was a merchant, monsieur, and took over my poor father’s business. When my father died, he left five hundred thousand francs, which was divided between my sister and me, we were his only children. Her husband had no inheritance when he married her except his integrity, his excellent abilities, and his spotless reputation. He wanted to match what his wife brought to the marriage. He worked tirelessly until he’d accumulated two hundred fifty thousand francs. It took six years to accomplish this goal." Maximilian’s voice grew warm with admiration. "Oh, I assure you, sir, it was touching to see these young people, who deserved better positions due to their talents, working together side by side. Because they refused to change any of the customs of their father’s household, they took six years to achieve what less scrupulous people would have done in two or three. All of Marseilles praised their integrity." "Finally, one day, Emmanuel came to his wife, who had just finished balancing the accounts. ’Julie,’ he said, ’Cocles has just given me the last roll of coins. That completes the two hundred fifty thousand francs we set as our goal. Can you be content with the modest fortune we’ll have from now on? Listen, our business handles a million francs’ worth of transactions per year, from which we earn forty thousand francs in income. We could sell the business within an hour if we wanted. I’ve received a letter from Monsieur Delaunay offering to buy our client list to merge with his own business for three hundred thousand francs. What should I do?’" "’Emmanuel,’ my sister replied, ’the house of Morrel can only be run by a Morrel. Isn’t it worth three hundred thousand francs to protect our father’s name from the risk of bad fortune and failure?’" "’That’s what I thought,’ Emmanuel answered, ’but I wanted your advice.’" "’Here’s my counsel, our accounts are settled and our bills are paid. All we need to do is stop taking on new business and close the office.’" "And that’s exactly what they did. It was three o’clock. At quarter past three, a merchant arrived wanting to insure two ships, a clear profit of fifteen thousand francs. ’Monsieur,’ Emmanuel told him, ’please address yourself to Monsieur Delaunay. We’ve quit the business.’ ’How long ago?’ the astonished merchant asked. ’Fifteen minutes,’ was the reply." Maximilian concluded, "And that, monsieur, is why my sister and brother-in-law have only twenty-five thousand francs a year." As Maximilian finished his story, the Count’s heart swelled with emotion. Emmanuel entered wearing a hat and coat, greeting the Count with the respect due to a man of his rank. After showing Monte Cristo around the small garden, he led him back inside. A large Japanese porcelain vase filled with fragrant flowers stood in the living room. Julie, properly dressed with her hair arranged, she’d accomplished this in less than ten minutes, received the Count as he entered. The songs of birds could be heard from a nearby aviary, and the branches of flowering trees framed the blue velvet curtains beautifully. Everything in this charming home, from the birdsong to the mistress’s smile, radiated peace and contentment. The Count had felt the influence of this happiness from the moment he entered, and he remained silent and thoughtful, forgetting that he was expected to continue the conversation. The silence grew almost uncomfortable until, with a visible effort, he pulled himself from his reverie. "Madame," he said at length, "please forgive my emotion, which must surprise you. You’re accustomed to the happiness I see here, but contentment is such a new sight to me that I could never tire of observing you and your husband." "We are very happy, monsieur," Julie replied, "but we’ve also known unhappiness. Few people have endured more bitter suffering than we have." The Count’s face showed intense curiosity. "Oh, this is just a family story," Maximilian observed. "This humble tale would hold little interest for you, accustomed as you are to witnessing the pleasures and misfortunes of the wealthy and powerful. But we have experienced deep sorrows." "And has God poured balm into your wounds, as he does for all who suffer?" Monte Cristo asked. "Yes, Count," Julie answered. "We can truly say he has, for he did for us what he grants only to his chosen ones, he sent us one of his angels." The Count’s cheeks flushed, and he coughed, using it as an excuse to raise his handkerchief to his mouth.