De Villefort had on the right hand Madame Danglars, on his left Morrel. The count was seated between Madame de Villefort and Danglars; the other seats were filled by Debray, who was placed between the two Cavalcanti, and by Chateau-Renaud, seated between Madame de Villefort and Morrel.The repast was magnificent; Monte Cristo had endeavored completely to overturn the Parisian ideas, and to feed the curiosity as much as the appetite of his guests. It was an Oriental feast that he offered to them, but of such a kind as the Arabian fairies might be supposed to prepare. Every delicious fruit that the four quarters of the globe could provide was heaped in vases from China and jars from Japan. Rare birds, retaining their most brilliant plumage, enormous fish, spread upon massive silver dishes, together with every wine produced in the Archipelago, Asia Minor, or the Cape, sparkling in bottles, whose grotesque shape seemed to give an additional flavor to the draught, --all these, like one of. ‘I really like your car,’ I commented as we left the diner. ‘Would you like to drive back?’ ‘Yes, please.’ He held the door for me, then went around and climbed into the passenger side. ‘How’s your driving record?’ he teased. ‘They haven’t caught me yet.’ I backed out of the space, then approached the parking lot exit. I rolled the windows down. ‘I want to hear this bitch growl.’ ‘Have I made a mistake?’ I answered by gunning it, shifting when the engine growled for a higher gear, quickly surpassing the speed limit. As I let the car coast down to 55 mph, he commented that I seemed to know what I was doing. My hand on the shifter, I couldn’t help but smile wickedly. It was becoming difficult to keep a leash on my bold sense of humor. ‘I know my way around a stick.’ As he chuckled, I cast a sideways glance and noted that his face looked a little flushed. ‘I felt like I was in the filming of the next Fast and the Furious movie.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘Too many foreign cars in those.
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