Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9
The Evening of the Betrothal.

Villefort had, as we have said, hastened back to Madame de
Saint-Meran's in the Place du Grand Cours, and on entering
the house found that the guests whom he had left at table
were taking coffee in the salon. Renee was, with all the
rest of the company, anxiously awaiting him, and his
entrance was followed by a general exclamation.

"Well, Decapitator, Guardian of the State, Royalist, Brutus,
what is the matter?" said one. "Speak out."

"Are we threatened with a fresh Reign of Terror?" asked
another.

"Has the Corsican ogre broken loose?" cried a third.

"Marquise," said Villefort, approaching his future
mother-in-law, "I request your pardon for thus leaving you.
Will the marquis honor me by a few moments' private
conversation?"

"Ah, it is really a serious matter, then?" asked the
marquis, remarking the cloud on Villefort's brow.

"So serious that I must take leave of you for a few days;
so," added he, turning to Renee, "judge for yourself if it
be not important."

"You are going to leave us?" cried Renee, unable to hide her
emotion at this unexpected announcement.

"Alas," returned Villefort, "I must!"

"Where, then, are you going?" asked the marquise.

"That, madame, is an official secret; but if you have any
commissions for Paris, a friend of mine is going there
to-night, and will with pleasure undertake them." The guests
looked at each other.

"You wish to speak to me alone?" said the marquis.

"Yes, let us go to the library, please." The marquis took
his arm, and they left the salon.

"Well," asked he, as soon as they were by themselves, "tell
me what it is?"

"An affair of the greatest importance, that demands my
immediate presence in Paris. Now, excuse the indiscretion,
marquis, but have you any landed property?"

"All my fortune is in the funds; seven or eight hundred
thousand francs."

"Then sell out -- sell out, marquis, or you will lose it
all."

"But how can I sell out here?"

"You have it broker, have you not?"

"Yes."

"Then give me a letter to him, and tell him to sell out
without an instant's delay, perhaps even now I shall arrive
too late."

"The deuce you say!" replied the marquis, "let us lose no
time, then!"

And, sitting down, he wrote a letter to his broker, ordering
him to sell out at the market price.

"Now, then," said Villefort, placing the letter in his
pocketbook, "I must have another!"

"To whom?"

"To the king."

"To the king?"

"Yes."

"I dare not write to his majesty."

"I do not ask you to write to his