The entire Villefort household erupted into chaos when the Count of Monte Cristo arrived. He'd come to return a courtesy visit to the prosecutor, and his name alone was enough to send everyone into a frenzy. Madame de Villefort sat alone in her drawing room when the butler announced him. She immediately sent for her son Edward, wanting the boy to thank the Count again for saving his life. Edward hurried in, not out of gratitude or obedience, but pure curiosity. He'd heard everyone talking about this mysterious man for two whole days, and he was dying to see what all the fuss was about. Plus, he enjoyed making outrageous comments that made his mother say, "Oh, that terrible child! But I can't be too harsh with him, he's just so clever." After exchanging pleasantries, the Count asked about Monsieur de Villefort. "My husband is dining with the chancellor tonight," the young woman replied. "He just left, and I'm sure he'll be devastated to have missed you." Two other visitors who'd been present when the Count arrived stared at him with undisguised fascination before finally leaving, staying just long enough to satisfy both politeness and curiosity. "Edward, what is your sister Valentine doing?" Madame de Villefort asked her son. "Tell someone to bring her here so I can introduce her to the Count." "You have a daughter, madame?" the Count inquired. "Very young, I presume?" "My husband's daughter from his first marriage," the young wife explained. "She's a lovely, well-developed girl." "But she's depressing," Edward interrupted, plucking feathers from a magnificent parrot screaming on its gilded perch. He wanted to make a plume for his hat. "Edward, be quiet!" Madame de Villefort snapped. Then she continued, "This little troublemaker is actually right, though he's just repeating what he's heard me say a hundred times. Despite everything we do to cheer her up, Valentine has a melancholy personality and barely speaks, which really diminishes her beauty. But what's keeping her? Edward, go check." "Because they're looking where she isn't," the boy said matter-of-factly. "And where are they looking?" "With Grandpa Noirtier." "You don't think she's there?" "No, no, no, no, no," Edward sang out, turning his words into a melody. "Then where is she? If you know, why won't you tell me?" "She's under the big chestnut tree," the spoiled brat announced. Despite his mother's orders, he began feeding live flies to the parrot, which seemed to love them. Madame de Villefort reached for the bell to send a maid to fetch Valentine, but the young woman appeared in the doorway at that exact moment. She looked dejected, and anyone paying close attention would have noticed the traces of recent tears in her eyes. Valentine was a tall, graceful nineteen-year-old with bright chestnut hair, deep blue eyes, and that serene air of quiet distinction that had characterized her mother. Her slender white fingers, her delicate neck, and her cheeks that flushed with shifting colors reminded one of elegant English ladies who moved with the grace of swans. She entered the room and, seeing the stranger beside her stepmother, the man everyone had been talking about, greeted him without any awkward shyness or even lowering her gaze. Her natural elegance doubled the Count's attention. He stood to return her greeting. "My stepdaughter, Mademoiselle de Villefort," Madame de Villefort said, gesturing toward Valentine from her sofa. "And Monsieur de Monte Cristo, King of China, Emperor of Southeast Asia," Edward added, glancing slyly at his sister. Madame de Villefort actually went pale and nearly lost her temper with this household pest named Edward. But the Count smiled and looked at the boy with what seemed like approval, which made the maternal heart swell with joy again. "But madame," the Count said, continuing the conversation while looking between Madame de Villefort and Valentine, "haven't I had the honor of meeting you both before? I couldn't help thinking so just now. The idea came to me, and when mademoiselle entered, seeing her was like an additional ray of light illuminating a confused memory. Please excuse the observation." "I don't think that's likely, sir. Valentine isn't fond of social gatherings, and we rarely go out," the young lady replied. "Then it wasn't at a party that I met you, madame, or this charming, mischievous boy. Besides, I barely know Parisian society, as I think I mentioned, I've only been in Paris a few days. No... but perhaps you'll allow me to remember... wait!" The Count placed his hand on his forehead as if gathering his thoughts. "No... it was somewhere else... away from here... I'm not sure... but this memory seems connected to a beautiful sky and some religious festival. Mademoiselle was holding flowers, this interesting boy was chasing a beautiful peacock in a garden, and you, madame, were sitting under a vine-covered arbor. Please help me, madame. Don't these details ring any bells?" "No, they don't," Madame de Villefort replied. "And yet it seems to me, sir, that if I'd met you anywhere, I would certainly remember you." "Perhaps the Count saw us in Italy," Valentine suggested timidly. "Yes, in Italy! It was probably in Italy," Monte Cristo agreed. "So you've traveled in Italy, mademoiselle?" "Yes. Madame and I were there two years ago. The doctors recommended the Naples climate for my lungs. We traveled through Bologna, Perugia, and Rome." "Ah yes, of course, mademoiselle!" Monte Cristo exclaimed, as if this simple explanation had unlocked everything. "It was in Perugia, during the religious festival, in the garden of the Hotel des Postes. That's where we met by chance, you, Madame de Villefort, and your son. I now remember having the honor of meeting you." "I remember Perugia perfectly, sir, and the Hotel des Postes, and the festival you mention," Madame de Villefort said, "but I'm embarrassed by my terrible memory, I really can't recall ever seeing you before." "How strange. I don't remember meeting you either," Valentine added, raising her beautiful eyes to the Count. "But I remember it perfectly!" Edward piped up. "Let me refresh your memory, madame," the Count continued. "It had been a scorching hot day. You were waiting for horses that were delayed because of the festival. Mademoiselle was walking in the garden shade, and your son disappeared chasing a peacock." "And I caught it, mama, don't you remember?" Edward interrupted. "I pulled out three beautiful tail feathers!" "You, madame, stayed under the arbor. Don't you remember sitting on a stone bench? While Mademoiselle de Villefort and your young son were away, you had a long conversation with someone." "Yes, actually, yes," the young lady answered, her face flushing red. "I do remember talking with a person wrapped in a long woolen cloak. I think he was a doctor." "Exactly, madame. That man was me. I'd been staying at that hotel for two weeks, during which time I cured my valet of a fever and my landlord of jaundice. So I'd actually earned quite a reputation as a skilled physician. We talked for a long time, madame, about various subjects, about the painters Perugino and Raphael, about customs and traditions, about the famous poison called aqua Tofana, which certain people in Perugia supposedly knew how to make." "Yes, that's true," Madame de Villefort replied, somewhat nervously. "I remember now." "I don't recall all the topics we discussed, madame," the Count continued with perfect calm, "but I clearly remember that, making the same mistake others had made about me, you consulted me about Mademoiselle de Villefort's health." "Yes, you were actually a doctor, sir, since you'd cured the sick," Madame de Villefort said. "The playwright Molière would tell you, madame, that it was precisely because I wasn't a real doctor that I cured my patients. As for me, I'll simply say that I've studied chemistry and natural sciences quite deeply, though only as a hobbyist, you understand." Just then, the clock struck six. "It's six o'clock," Madame de Villefort said, clearly agitated. "Valentine, won't you go check if your grandfather is ready for his dinner?" Valentine rose, nodded to the Count, and left the room without speaking. "Oh madame," the Count said after Valentine had gone, "did you send Mademoiselle de Villefort away because of me?" "Not at all," the young lady replied quickly. "But this is the hour when we usually give Monsieur Noirtier the unwelcome meal that sustains his pitiful existence. You're aware, sir, of my father-in-law's terrible condition?" "Yes, madame. Monsieur de Villefort mentioned it to me, paralysis, I believe." "Sadly, yes. The poor old man is completely helpless. Only his mind remains active in that human shell, and even that's faint and flickering, like a dying lamp. But excuse me, sir, for discussing our family troubles. I interrupted you when you were telling me you were a skilled chemist." "No, madame, I didn't say that," the Count replied with a smile. "Quite the opposite. I've studied chemistry because, having decided to live in Eastern countries, I wanted to follow King Mithridates' example." "Mithridates the Pontian King," the young pest said, tearing beautiful portraits from a splendid album, "the guy who drank a little poison with his breakfast every morning." "Edward, you naughty boy!" Madame de Villefort exclaimed, snatching the damaged book from the brat's hands. "You're absolutely unbearable! You're disrupting our conversation. Go join your sister Valentine in dear Grandpa Noirtier's room." "The album," Edward said sulkily. "What do you mean, the album?" "How dare you tear up the pictures?" Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝘯𝘦𝘵 "I won't go unless you give me the album," the boy declared, stubbornly planting himself in an armchair, his usual tactic of never giving in. "Fine, take it, but please stop bothering us," Madame de Villefort said, handing Edward the album. The child headed toward the door with his mother leading him. The Count watched her carefully. Let's see if she closes the door behind him, he thought. Madame de Villefort carefully closed the door after her son, the Count appearing not to notice. Then, after casting a careful look around the room, the young woman returned to her chair and sat down. "Allow me to observe, madame," the Count said in that kind tone he could adopt so well, "you're really very strict with that clever little child." "Oh, sometimes strictness is absolutely necessary," Madame de Villefort replied with all a mother's firm conviction. "Master Edward was actually quoting the ancient writer Cornelius Nepos when he mentioned King Mithridates," the Count continued, "and you interrupted him during a quotation that proves his tutor hasn't neglected him at all. Your son is remarkably advanced for his age."