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Ever and anon, as he dozed, that smile that made him so handsome would steal over his manly countenance, bringing out into bold relief all his wonderful nobility and benevolence of expression. As midnight struck in every clock-tower in Paris, the usual solitude of the Rue du Helder at that dead hour was broken by the appearance of a sinister figure at the little gate of Monte-Cristo's garden.
Turning to his lieutenants, he said: "Have a guard placed in the barouche beside Monte-Cristo's daughter and let another comrade drive the equipage to the rendezvous of the band. As for the colored driver, let him go back to Rome on foot and carry the news to his master with the compliments of Vampa's men!" "What shall be done with Peppino?" asked one of the lieutenants.
"They can be found, Zuleika, and you will not have far to look for them either!" Mme. Morrel gazed at Monte-Cristo's daughter with enthusiasm in her fine eyes. The girl was at a loss to understand her. "Surely you do not mean Albert de Morcerf and Eugénie?" she said. "No," replied Valentine. "They love you, undoubtedly, but the needful assistance is not to be obtained from them."
For Monte-Cristo's daughter his feeling was love, for the fascinating flower-girl of the Piazza del Popolo it was a passion to be sated. After a few more words to his sister, the peasant returned to the young men, aiding Espérance to transport Giovanni into the cabin. The interior of this humble abode was as neat and picturesque as the exterior.
He darted through the window, motioning to the remaining Khouans to do likewise. In an instant the room was empty; the Arabs had vanished like a vision of the night. Ten, fifteen minutes passed, and still not a sound to break the torpor of the Algerian night, save the hum of conversation around the table of Fanfar, the colonist. Monte-Cristo's sombre air had not passed away.
Shaking off Monte-Cristo's grasp, he leaped upon the bulwarks and suddenly sprang far out amid the seething waves. The Count uttered a cry of horror that was echoed by the captain. As for the crew, so utterly stupefied were they that they did not seem to comprehend the suicidal act.
Many things equally improbable had happened, and why should not this wondrous transformation, a transformation worthy of the wand of some potent Prospero, be effected? Valentine was a devoted friend and an enthusiast, and Monte-Cristo's maxim, "Wait and Hope," was her guiding star. "Wait and Hope!" Oh! how cheering, how reassuring was that simple, trustful motto!
"Now," cried one of the miscreants with a frightful curse, at the same time placing the muzzle of a pistol at the Count's temple, "now, my lord of Salmis, your time has come!" As he was about to fire, there arose a tremendous shout, and, headed by Ali, who swung aloft a Turkish yataghan, the entire force of Monte-Cristo's servants, armed to the teeth, swept down upon the astonished bandits.
They, as well as Monte-Cristo's children and the Nubian, had been suddenly seized by a party of rough-looking Greeks, evidently a portion of Benedetto's band.
"Father, father," repeated the major, dazed. "You are not " He mechanically opened his arms to press Benedetto to his heart. "Not necessary," said the latter, laughing. "We are not in the Count of Monte-Cristo's house, and can dispense with tenderness." The major sighed for a further sum of fifty thousand francs he would have embraced ten Andreas. "But who are you, anyhow?" he finally asked.
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