Hotel Transylvania Read Online Free Page A

"Well, do you know, since I am not certain of what you like, I thought perhaps a greater variety would please you. And if there is more than you want, the food itself might add to your hunger, and strengthen your appetite. I cannot help but believe that part of this pallor you complain of comes from lack of food." He seated himself across from her.
    "But you do not eat, Saint-Germain," she pointed out.
    He waved this away. "I am engaged to dine later. Come, then. The pâté. And after that, some of this excellent aspic or perhaps the eggs à la Florentine."
    Mme. Cressie was torn. To have the pleasure of the company of the popular and mysterious Comte was certainly a plume in her social cap, and a pleasant change from the indifference of her husband. But at close range she found Saint-Germain disturbing. His probing eyes, she discovered, were too acute, too capable of finding out the truth, and the disquieting and genuine concern he had shown her threatened to destroy her careful defenses. She nibbled at the pâté and pondered her predicament.
    "If you have trouble, Madame, you may tell me," he said to her in a low tone. "I give my Word that I will not betray you."
    Again she hesitated, struck by his amazing perspicacity. "I am not sure I understand you, Comte."
    Saint-Germain leaned forward and said gently, "Clearly, my dear, you are not entirely yourself yet. And even more clearly you are deeply troubled. If you would want to tell me what it is that worries you, perhaps I can suggest something that would be of help to you. I have heard," he said with even more sympathy, "that your husband is not much at home. Now, while I cannot restore lost affection, or inspire it where it does not exist, I may have some remedy for your sorrow."
    She sat up, affronted, her face scarlet. "Sir!"
    Immediately he saw his mistake. "No, no, Madame misunderstands me." He gave her a wry grin to dispel her lingering doubts. "Although, if that is what you desire, no doubt it would not be difficult for you to find one who would assist you. But consider me excused. It is not that I do not admire you: I find you a delicious woman. But you must realize that I gave up such congress long, long ago."
    La Cressie felt her flush fading, and took advantage of the moment to study the strange man across the table from her. He did not have the look of a celibate, but she had to admit there had been no rumors about him, either with women or men. And it was not because no one would have him. Indeed, she remembered suddenly—and the thought brought a ghost of a smile to her mouth—that one or two women had kept Saint-Germain under determined siege for several months, but nothing had come of it. She nodded. "We both seem to have misunderstood."
    Saint-Germain opened his hands. "If you misunderstood, what can I be but flattered?" He looked down at her plate. "But you are not eating, Madame. Is the fare unsatisfactory?"
    Dutifully she picked up the heavily scrolled silver fork. "I don't wish to give offense, Comte," she said as she took another bite of the venison pâté.
    "That would be impossible, Madame," he said, and in this automatically gallant response there was a covert hint of boredom. He adjusted the foaming white lace that spread over his black-and-silver-brocade waistcoat, so that the diamonds pinned in the folds shone like water drops, and the great ruby glowed like the heart of a poet.
    La Cressie smiled enviously at the jewels, thinking it unfair that Saint-Germain should have so many magnificent diamonds as well as the huge ruby. Then she banished these thoughts from her mind and turned her attention to the eggs à la Florentine.
    Saint-Germain watched her eat, faint amusement lurking in his dark eyes. It was good she was hungry, if only to please him. He touched his hair to be sure that the white powder that was utterly required for a correct formal appearance still clung there. He was sure that his valet, Roger, had done the job with his usual