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Updated: June 27, 2025
"My poor child," replied Monte Cristo, "that is merely because your father and myself are the only men who have ever talked to you." "I don't want anybody else to talk to me. My father said I was his 'joy' you style me your 'love, and both of you have called me 'my child." "Do you remember your father, Haidee?" The young Greek smiled.
'Take my advice, said she. 'Never mind love. After all, what is it? The dream of a few weeks. That is all its joy. The disappointment of a life is its Nemesis. Who was ever successful in true love? Success in love argues that the love is false. True love is always despondent or tragical. Juliet loved. Haidee loved. Dido loved, and what came of it? Troilus loved and ceased to be a man.
"Have I discovered the truth?" he said; "but whether it be for recompense or punishment, I accept my fate. Come, Haidee, come!" and throwing his arm around the young girl's waist, he pressed the hand of Valentine, and disappeared. An hour had nearly passed, during which Valentine, breathless and motionless, watched steadfastly over Morrel.
The words which struck her ear as familiar might have come from Juan and Haidee, and if so, nothing could be more opportune. "Do you expect me to give you answer now, Mr. Emilius?" "Yes, now." And he stood before her in calm dignity, with his arms crossed upon his breast.
"Haidee," said he, "you well know." "Why do you address me so coldly so distantly?" asked the young Greek. "Have I by any means displeased you? Oh, if so, punish me as you will; but do not do not speak to me in tones and manner so formal and constrained." "Haidee," replied the count, "you know that you are now in France, and are free." "Free to do what?" asked the young girl. "Free to leave me."
He had remained awake without difficulty during the first portion of the act, in which Elsie April the orient pearl had had a long scene of emotion and tears, played, as Edward Henry thought, magnificently in spite of its inherent ridiculousness; but later, when gentle Haidee had vanished away and the fateful troubadour-messenger had begun to resume her announcements of "The woman appears," Edward Henry's soul had miserably yielded to his body and to the temptation of darkness.
'Madame, said the president, 'may reference be made to the Count of Monte Cristo, who is now, I believe, in Paris? 'Sir, replied Haidee, 'the Count of Monte Cristo, my foster-father, has been in Normandy the last three days.
The first three remained constantly in a small waiting-room, ready to obey the summons of a small golden bell, or to receive the orders of the Romaic slave, who knew just enough French to be able to transmit her mistress's wishes to the three other waiting-women; the latter had received most peremptory instructions from Monte Cristo to treat Haidee with all the deference they would observe to a queen.
His eye, elate with happiness, was reading eagerly the tearful gaze of Haidee, when suddenly the door opened. The count knit his brow. "M. de Morcerf!" said Baptistin, as if that name sufficed for his excuse. In fact, the count's face brightened. "Which," asked he, "the viscount or the count?" "The count." "Oh," exclaimed Haidee, "is it not yet over?"
'Gentlemen, said the president, when silence was restored, 'is the Count of Morcerf convicted of felony, treason, and conduct unbecoming a member of this House? 'Yes, replied all the members of the committee of inquiry with a unanimous voice. "Haidee had remained until the close of the meeting.
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