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Updated: May 13, 2025
"And you do not know who this man really was?" "No probably also a marabout, a kind of juggler or sorcerer." "Did you acquaint your superiors of this sorcerer?" asked the count after a while. "No," replied Coucou, rather hesitatingly. "Then I am surprised that you acquaint me of this," said Monte-Cristo, while he threw a penetrating glance at the Zouave.
Spero, the son of Monte-Cristo, was peacefully sleeping in another room, while, gathered around the table in the dining-room of Fanfaro's house, were Monte-Cristo, Miss Clary, Madame Caraman, Coucou, and Albert de Morcerf, ready to listen to the story of Fanfaro's adventures, which, as narrated at the close of the preceding volume, he was about to begin.
This afforded Mange, such was the name of the dismissed policeman, no indication whatever by which he could profit. He, nevertheless, was not disconcerted by the paucity of information. He knew that young Morcerf was searching for a man who had been one of the party engaged in the attempt to rob the Monte-Cristo mansion on the Rue du Helder, and that knowledge was sufficient for him.
If I meet Monte-Cristo I will kill him as I would a mongrel cur! Does that satisfy you?" "How about your mysterious woman?" Bouche-de-Miel could not repress a start, but he clenched his fists firmly and replied, with an effort: "Never mind her! She must take care of herself!" "Who is she?" "Never mind her, I say! If harm comes to her it will be her own fault!"
He had sworn never to touch money again while he lived. One night Monte-Cristo entered the subterranean cave where the marble sarcophagus of his son was: "Spero," he earnestly said, "is it time?" A long silence ensued. Then was it a reality? Spero's lips appeared to move and utter the word: "Come." "I thought so," muttered the Count. "I shall come, my child, as soon as my affairs are settled."
Espérance in that dress, with that sunburnt countenance! I thought your voice had a strangely familiar sound, but your disguise proved too complete for me to penetrate it!" These words recalled to the mind of the son of Monte-Cristo the changes he had made in his appearance. No wonder that Viscount had failed to recognize him!
Those who saw this sight will never forget it. Monte-Cristo bent low over the bier on which Esperance lay. He took his son in his arms as a mother lifts her child from the cradle, and bearing the body Monte-Cristo left the room. Suddenly shaking off the torpor which had held them motionless, Fanfar and Goutran started in pursuit.
"How shall I describe my feelings when I realized that I was even then, at that very moment, exposed for sale, that from being the free and honored wife of Monte-Cristo I had suddenly become a mere article of human merchandise, valued simply at so many miserable piastres! My fate hung upon a thread.
In the vast garden of the Monte-Cristo mansion, notwithstanding its power elsewhere, the sun seemed to have been successfully defied; there the trees, shrubs and plants were not parched, but preserved all their freshness and beauty, suggesting the coolness of early spring rather than the sweltering heat of midsummer, while the parterres were brilliant with gorgeous bloom and penetrating perfumes loaded the air.
"Yes," said he, then, hesitating; "upon her two cheeks and on her forehead one could perceive a small red cross; it was tattooed by a skilful hand, and seemed to become her very well." Monte-Cristo began to tremble. "Do you know," he then said, "that Mohammed ben Abdallah is the most cruel enemy of France, and that he has taken an oath to take vengeance for Abd-el-Kader?
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