d yet more grave, and seemed in no
mood for bantering or being bantered--"where is Madame de Morcerf at the
present time?"

"At Marseilles, I have heard."

"And is married again?"

"No. She is yet a widow."

"And is a recluse, like Morrel's beautiful wife?"

"So says report. They dwell together."

"How romantic! The young wife, whose hero-husband is winning glory amid
the perils of war and pestilence, pours her griefs, joys and
anticipations into the bosom of the young mother, who appreciates and
reciprocates all, because she has a son exposed to the same perils--and
both beautiful as the morning! A charming picture! Two immortals in
epaulets and sashes in the background are only wanted instead of one.
But I must to the Chambers. M. Dantes is expected to speak in the
tribune this morning upon his measure for the workmen."

"Do you know, Count, who this M. Dantes really is?" asked Debray.

"There's a question for a Ministerial Secretary to ask a member while a
journalist sits by! I only know of M. Dantes that he is the most
eloquent man I ever listened to. I don't mean that he's the greatest
man, or the profoundest statesman, or the wisest politician, or the
sagest political economist; but I do mean that, for natural powers of
persuasion and denunciation--for natural oratory--I have never known his
rival. If Plato's maxim, 'that oratory must be estimated by its
effects,' is at all correct, then is M. Dantes the greatest orator in
France, for the effect of his oratory is miraculous. There is a sort of
magic in his clear, sonorous, powerful, yet most exquisitely modulated
voice, and the wave of his arm is like that of a necromancer's wand."

"You are enthusiastic, Count," observed Beauchamp, "but very just. M.
Dantes is, indeed, a remarkable man, and possessed of remarkable
endowments, both of mind and body. His personal advantages are
wonderful. Such a figure and grace as his are alone worth more than all
the powers of other distinguished speakers for popular effect. 'The eyes
of the multitude are more eloquent than their ears,' as the English
Shakespeare says."

"I never saw such eyes and such a face," remarked Debray, "but once in
my life. Do you remember the Count of Monte-Cristo, Messieurs?"

"We shall not soon forget him," was the reply. "But this man differs
greatly from the Count in most respects, though certainly not unlike him
in others."

"True," replied the Secretary; "in manners, habits, costume