"Non, monsieur, I swear it by the lava of Monte Fato, I will tell all! But first, I beg of you, remove yourself from that X! Placed as you are, in that shadow that conceals your shape and seems to have a substance and almost an evil will of its own, you appear to me as the wraith of M. de Villefaramir!"
"What! M. de Villefaramir!" cried the Count. "The steuard du roi, known for inflexible rigor and irrefragable virtue, who would not accept a bribe if he saw it lying in the highway?"
"Eh bien, monsieur, that man of the irreproachable reputation, as pure as the snows of Charadras..."
"Yes?"
"... was infamous!"
"Bha, impossible!"
"I swear it by the style of the Précieux!"
"In truth!" said Monte Fato. "You will recount me all that, monsieur Roguccio, for it begins veritably to interest me."
