"What are the two fish?" asked Danglars.
"M. Chateau-Renaud, who has lived in Russia, will tell you the name of one, and Major Cavalcanti, who is an Italian, will tell you the name of the other."
"This one is, I think, a sterlet," said Chateau-Renaud.
"And that one, if I mistake not, a lamprey."
"Just so. Now, M. Danglars, ask these gentlemen where they are caught."
"Sterlets," said Chateau-Renaud, "are only found in the Volga."
"And," said Cavalcanti, "I know that Lake Fusaro alone supplies lampreys of that size."
"Exactly; one comes from the Volga, and the other from Lake Fusaro."
"Impossible!" cried all the guests simultaneously.
"Well, this is just what amuses me," said Monte Cristo. "I am like Nero--cupitor impossibilium; and that is what is amusing you at this moment. This fish, which seems so exquisite to you, is very likely no better than perch or salmon; but it seemed impossible to procure it, and here it is."
"But how could you have these fish brought to France?"
"Oh, nothing more easy. Each fish was brought over in a cask--one filled with river herbs and weeds, the other with rushes and lake plants; they were placed in a wagon built on purpose, and thus the sterlet lived twelve days, the lamprey eight, and both were alive when my cook seized them, killing one with milk and the other with wine. You do not believe me, M. Danglars!"
"I cannot help doubting," answered Danglars with his stupid smile.
"Baptistin," said the count, "have the other fish brought in--the sterlet and the lamprey which came in the other casks, and which are yet alive." Danglars opened his bewildered eyes; the company clapped their hands. Four servants carried in two casks covered with aquatic plants, and in each of which was breathing a fish similar to those on the table.
"But why have two of each sort?" asked Danglars.
"Merely because one might have died," carelessly answered Monte Cristo.
"You are certainly an extraordinary man," said Danglars; "and philosophers may well say it is a fine thing to be rich."
"And to have ideas," added Madame Danglars.
"Oh, do not give me credit for this, madame; it was done by the Romans, who much esteemed them, and Pliny relates that they sent slaves from Ostia to Rome, who carried on their heads fish which he calls the mulus, and which, from the description, must probably be the goldfish. It was also considered a luxury to have them alive, it being an amusing sight to see them die, for, when dying, they change color three or four times, and like the rainbow when it disappears, pass through all the prismatic shades, after which they were sent to the kitchen. Their agony formed part of their merit--if they were not seen alive, they were despised when dead."