"Well!" the Count said with warm politeness that set his greeting apart from ordinary social niceties. "My young friend has found me. Good evening, Monsieur de Morcerf."
His face, controlled with such extraordinary discipline, expressed perfect friendliness. Only then did Morrel remember the letter he'd received from Albert asking him to come to the Opera without explanation. He realized something terrible was happening.
"We're not here for polite small talk or fake friendship," Albert said, his voice trembling and barely audible. "We're here to demand an explanation."
"An explanation? At the Opera?" The Count's tone remained calm, his gaze penetrating. "I'm not very familiar with Parisian customs, but I wouldn't have thought this was the place for such a conversation."
"When people lock themselves away," Albert said louder, "and can't be seen because they're bathing or dining or sleeping, you have to take your opportunities when they appear."
