"Don't hurry!"! You're in such a hurry to get away, but you've forgotten one of my guests. Move a little to the left. Here! Look at M. Andrea Cavalcanti, the young man in the black coat, who is now turning around. This time, Bertuccio would have exclaimed, if Monte Cristo had not stopped him with a look. Benedetto! "Days!" He murmured. "Six-thirty has just struck, M. Bertuccio," said the count sternly, "and I am not willing to wait for the hour at which the dinner was ordered." Bertuccio, leaning against the wall for a moment, made his way back into the dining-room. At the end of five minutes the door of the drawing-room was thrown open, and Bertuccio, like Vardell of Chantilly, who had been the steward of the Duke of Gond, when he had invited Louis XIV to dinner at Chantilly, had summoned up his last courage to draw his sword and cut his own throat, for he had been ashamed of not having brought fresh sea-fish in time. Mustering up his last courage, he said, "Tell your excellency that the feast is ready." The Count of Monte Cristo offered his arm to Madame de Villefort. "M. de Villefort," said he, "will you guide the Baroness Danglars?" Villefort obeyed,x56 line pipe, and they turned into the dining-room. Chapter 63 dinner As soon as the guests stepped into the restaurant, it was obvious that they all felt something. Everyone was asking himself what miraculous force had brought them into the house; but, though they were surprised and even uneasy, they still felt reluctant to leave. In view of the count's social connections, his eccentric and solitary position, and his astonishing and almost unbelievable wealth, it seemed that men should be wary of him, and that women should feel it inappropriate to enter a house where no hostess came out to entertain them,x70 line pipe, but these men and women broke through the psychological barriers of prudence and convention; Curiosity took over irresistibly. Even Cavalcanti and his son (the former stuffy, the latter flighty, neither of whom understood the purpose of this invitation) shared the feelings of those they had first met. And Madame Danglars. Villefort, at the count's urging, gave her his arm, and Villefort, who felt the baroness's hand on his own arm, felt a little uneasy, and his eyes a little uneasy. All this did not escape the count, and the scene was sufficiently interesting to the eye of the beholder in view of the figures with which he was in contact. On M. de Villefort's right was Madame Danglars, and on his left Morrel. The count sat between Madame de Villefort and Danglars, Debray between Cavalcanti and his son, and Chateau-Renaud between Madame de Villefort and Morrel. Monte Cristo, who had completely purged himself of the Parisian atmosphere, 316l stainless steel pipe ,347 stainless steel, was not so much trying to feed his guests as to feed their curiosity. What he offers is an oriental banquet, which can only be found in Arabic fairy tales. Chinese dishes and Japanese porcelain plates are piled with seasonal fresh fruits from all over the world. There were huge fish in great silver basins, and all sorts of rare birds still had their most brilliant feathers on their bodies, and all kinds of wine, from the Aegean Sea, from Asia Minor, and from the Cape of Good Hope, were put in strange and glittering bottles, which seemed to add to the sweetness and purity of the wine. All this is like that of Appigus [who was a gastronomist in the Augustan Age of ancient Rome. As he had done with his guest, they were all arrayed before these Parisian. They knew that it was possible to feed ten people at the cost of a thousand Louis, but that would require eating pearls like Caliopatra or drinking golden water like Medici. Monte Cristo, observing the general expression of consternation, began to laugh playfully. Gentlemen, he said, you probably admit that when a man has a considerable degree of wealth, luxury becomes a necessity. And the wives must admit that when a person has a very superior position, his ideals will be higher. Now, from this standpoint, what can be called wonderful? That's what we don't know. And what is it that we really want? It's what we can't get. Well, to study what I can't understand, to get what I can't get. That's the goal of my life. I use two tools to achieve my hope-my will and my money. My pursuits are different from yours; for instance, you, M. Danglars, wish to construct a new railway line, and you, M. de Villefort, wish to condemn a criminal to death; you, M. Debray, wish to pacify a kingdom; you, Monsieur Chateau-Renaud wish to please a woman, and you, Morrel, wish the breaking of a horse which no one dares to ride. Although we pursue different goals, I am no less interested in pursuing my goals than you are. For example, look at these two fish. This one was bought a hundred and fifty miles from St. Petersburg, and that one within fifteen miles of Naples. Isn't it interesting to see them on the same table now? "What are these two fish?" Asked Danglars. Monsieur Chateau-Renaud lived in Russia, and I am sure he can tell you the name of this fish. Replied Monte Cristo; "Major Cavalcanti is Italian, and I am sure he will tell you the name of that one." "This one, I think, is a little butterfly." Said Chateau-Renaud. "And that one," said Cavalcanti, "is a blue eel, if I am not mistaken." "Exactly.". Now, M. Danglars, ask these two gentlemen where they were caught. "You only find them in the Volga," said Chateau-Renaud. "I know," said Cavalcanti,x52 line pipe, "that only Lake Fusale produces blue eels of this size." "Yes, one is from the Volga River, and the other is from the Fusale Lake. It's not bad at all." "Impossible!" The guests shouted in chorus. lksteelpipe.com

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