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"You seemed pretty set against us." Not you," Noel answered frostily."It's Chasity," Mary explained, rolling her eyes. "Didn't you see them together those last few days before, um, the attack." Really?" God, you're blind," my wife said with a fond smile. "How did you die, Noel?" I made a mistake," she answered; a look of self-hatred flashed across her face. "More than one, actually." Well ... I..." My voice trailed off. What did you say to the dead? I cleared my throat. "Be ready. If anything goes wrong, I want you racing across the bridge." You can count on us, Master," Chasity assured."It's time, Master," Jessica said, her hand gripping the dagger hilt.Mary gripped her shoulder. "It'll be okay."She released the dagger, blushing slightly. "Of course, Mistress. Shall we."Mary took my arm, her other hand resting on the bronze dagger. Just in case. We walked in silence down the concrete roadway, Jessica trailing behind us. Tufts of grass grew from cracks in the concrete; no-one had. It was never without a nervous shudder, since the dinner at Auteuil, and the events which followed it, that Madame Danglars heard Monte Cristo's name announced. If he did not come, the painful sensation became most intense; if, on the contrary, he appeared, his noble countenance, his brilliant eyes, his amiability, his polite attention even towards Madame Danglars, soon dispelled every impression of fear. It appeared impossible to the baroness that a man of such delightfully pleasing manners should entertain evil designs against her; besides, the most corrupt minds only suspect evil when it would answer some interested end--useless injury is repugnant to every mind. When Monte Cristo entered the boudoir, --to which we have already once introduced our readers, and where the baroness was examining some drawings, which her daughter passed to her after having looked at them with M. Cavalcanti, --his presence soon produced its usual effect, and it was with smiles that the baroness.
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