In a very few minutes the count reached No. 7 in the RueMeslay. The house was of white stone, and in a small courtbefore it were two small beds full of beautiful flowers. Inthe concierge that opened the gate the count recognizedCocles; but as he had but one eye, and that eye had becomesomewhat dim in the course of nine years, Cocles did notrecognize the count. The carriages that drove up to the doorwere compelled to turn, to avoid a fountain that played in abasin of rockwork, - an ornament that had excited thejealousy of the whole quarter, and had gained for the placethe appellation of "The Little Versailles." It is needlessto add that there were gold and silver fish in the basin.The house, with kitchens and cellars below, had above theground-floor, two stories and attics. The whole of theproperty, consisting of an immense workshop, two pavilionsat the bottom of the garden, and the garden itself, had beenpurchased by Emmanuel, who had seen at a glance that hecould make of it a profitable speculation. He had reservedthe house and half the garden, and building a wall betweenthe garden and the workshops, had let them upon lease withthe pavilions at the bottom of the garden. So that for atrifling sum he was as well lodged, and as perfectly shutout from observation, as the inhabitants of the finestmansion in the Faubourg St. Germain. The breakfast-room wasfinished in oak; the salon in mahogany, and the furnishingswere of blue velvet; the bedroom was in citronwood and greendamask. There was a study for Emmanuel, who never studied,and a music-room for Julie, who never played. The whole ofthe second story was set apart for Maximilian; it wasprecisely similar to his sister's apartments, except thatfor the breakfast-parlor he had a billiard-room, where hereceived his friends. He was superintending the grooming ofhis horse, and smoking his cigar at the entrance of thegarden, when the count's carriage stopped at the gate.

Cocles opened the gate, and Baptistin, springing from thebox, inquired whether Monsieur and Madame Herbault andMonsieur Maximilian Morrel would see his excellency theCount of Monte Cristo. "The Count of Monte Cristo?" criedMorrel, throwing away his cigar and hastening to thecarriage; "I should think we would see him. Ah, a thousandthanks, count, for not having forgotten your promise." Andthe young officer shook the count's hand so warmly, thatMonte Cristo could not be mistaken as to the sincerity ofhis joy, and he saw that he had been expected withimpatience, and was received with pleasure. "Come, come,"said Maximilian, "I will serve as your guide; such a man asyou are ought not to be introduced by a servant. My sisteris in the garden plucking the dead roses; my brother isreading his two papers, the Presse and the Debats, withinsix steps of her; for wherever you see Madame Herbault, youhave only to look within a circle of four yards and you willfind M. Emmanuel, and `reciprocally,' as they say at thePolytechnic School." At the sound of their steps a youngwoman of twenty to five and twenty, dressed in a silkmorning gown, and busily engaged in plucking the dead leavesoff a noisette rose-tree, raised her head. This was Julie,who had become, as the clerk of the house of Thomson &French had predicted, Madame Emmanuel Herbault. She uttereda cry of surprise at the sight of a stranger, and Maximilianbegan to laugh. "Don't disturb yourself, Julie," said he."The count has only been two or three days in Paris, but healready knows what a fashionable woman of the Marais is, andif he does not, you will show him."

"Ah, monsieur," returned Julie, "it is treason in my brotherto bring you thus, but he never has any regard for his poorsister. Penelon, Penelon!" An old man, who was diggingbusily at one of the beds, stuck his spade in the earth, andapproached, cap in hand, striving to conceal a quid oftobacco he had just thrust into his cheek. A few locks ofgray mingled with his hair, which was still thick andmatted, while his bronzed features and determined glancewell suited an old sailor who had braved the heat of theequator and the storms of the tropics. "I think you hailedme, Mademoiselle Julie?" said he. Penelon had stillpreserved the habit of calling his master's daughter"Mademoiselle Julie," and had never been able to change thename to Madame Herbault. "Penelon," replied Julie, "go andinform M. Emmanuel of this gentleman's visit, and Maximilianwill conduct him to the salon." Then, turning to MonteCristo, - "I hope you will permit me to leave you for a fewminutes," continued she; and without awaiting any reply,disappeared behind a clump of trees, and escaped to thehouse by a lateral alley.

"I am sorry to see," observed Monte Cristo to Morrel, "thatI cause no small disturbance in your house."

"Look there," said Maximilian, laughing; "there is herhusband changing his jacket for a coat. I assure you, youare well known in the Rue Meslay."

"Your family appears to be a very happy one," said thecount, as if speaking to himself.

"Oh, yes, I assure you, count, they want nothing that canrender them happy; they are young and cheerful, they aretenderly attached to each other, and with twenty-fivethousand francs a year they fancy themselves as rich asRothschild."

"Five and twenty thousand francs is not a large sum,however," replied Monte Cristo, with a tone so sweet andgentle, that it went to Maximilian's heart like the voice ofa father; "but they will not be content with that. Yourbrother-in-law is a barrister? a doctor?"

"He was a merchant, monsieur, and had succeeded to thebusiness of my poor father. M. Morrel, at his death, left500,000 francs, which were divided between my sister andmyself, for we were his only children. Her husband, who,when he married her, had no other patrimony than his nobleprobity, his first-rate ability, and his spotlessreputation, wished to possess as much as his wife. Helabored and toiled until he had amassed 250,000 francs; sixyears sufficed to achieve this object. Oh, I assure you,sir, it was a touching spectacle to see these youngcreatures, destined by their talents for higher stations,toiling together, and through their unwillingness to changeany of the customs of their paternal house, taking six yearsto accomplish what less scrupulous people would haveeffected in two or three. Marseilles resounded with theirwell-earned praises. At last, one day, Emmanuel came to hiswife, who had just finished making up the accounts. `Julie,'said he to her, `Cocles has just given me the last rouleauof a hundred francs; that completes the 250,000 francs wehad fixed as the limits of our gains. Can you contentyourself with the small fortune which we shall possess forthe future? Listen to me. Our house transacts business tothe amount of a million a year, from which we derive anincome of 40,000 francs. We can dispose of the business, ifwe please, in an hour, for I have received a letter from M.Delaunay, in which he offers to purchase the good-will ofthe house, to unite with his own, for 300,000 francs. Adviseme what I had better do.' - `Emmanuel,' returned my sister,`the house of Morrel can only be carried on by a Morrel. Isit not worth 300,000 francs to save our father's name fromthe chances of evil fortune and failure?' - `I thought so,'replied Emmanuel; `but I wished to have your advice.' - `This is my counsel: - Our accounts are made up and ourbills paid; all we have to do is to stop the issue of anymore, and close our office.' This was done instantly. It wasthree o'clock; at a quarter past, a merchant presentedhimself to insure two ships; it was a clear profit of 15,000francs. `Monsieur,' said Emmanuel, `have the goodness toaddress yourself to M. Delaunay. We have quitted business.'- `How long?' inquired the astonished merchant. `A quarterof an hour,' was the reply. And this is the reason,monsieur," continued Maximilian, "of my sister andbrother-in-law having only 25,000 francs a year."

Maximilian had scarcely finished his story, during which thecount's heart had swelled within him, when Emmanuel enteredwearing a hat and coat. He saluted the count with the air ofa man who is aware of the rank of his guest; then, afterhaving led Monte Cristo around the little garden, hereturned to the house. A large vase of Japan porcelain,filled with flowers that loaded the air with their perfume,stood in the salon. Julie, suitably dressed, and her hairarranged (she had accomplished this feat in less than tenminutes), received the count on his entrance. The songs ofthe birds were heard in an aviary hard by, and the branchesof laburnums and rose acacias formed an exquisite frameworkto the blue velvet curtains. Everything in this charmingretreat, from the warble of the birds to the smile of themistress, breathed tranquillity and repose. The count hadfelt the influence of this happiness from the moment heentered the house, and he remained silent and pensive,forgetting that he was expected to renew the conversation,which had ceased after the first salutations had beenexchanged. The silence became almost painful when, by aviolent effort, tearing himself from his pleasing reverie - "Madame," said he at length, "I pray you to excuse myemotion, which must astonish you who are only accustomed tothe happiness I meet here; but contentment is so new a sightto me, that I could never be weary of looking at yourselfand your husband."

"We are very happy, monsieur," replied Julie; "but we havealso known unhappiness, and few have ever undergone morebitter sufferings than ourselves." The Count's featuresdisplayed an expression of the most intense curiosity.

"Oh, all this is a family history, as Chateau-Renaud toldyou the other day," observed Maximilian. "This humblepicture would have but little interest for you, accustomedas you are to behold the pleasures and the misfortunes ofthe wealthy and industrious; but such as we are, we haveexperienced bitter sorrows."

"And God has poured balm into your wounds, as he does intothose of all who are in affliction?" said Monte Cristoinquiringly.

"Yes, count," returned Julie, "we may indeed say he has, forhe has done for us what he grants only to his chosen; hesent us one of his angels." The count's cheeks becamescarlet, and he coughed, in order to have an excuse forputting his handkerchief to his mouth. "Those born towealth, and who have the means of gratifying every wish,"said Emmanuel, "know not what is the real happiness of life,just as those who have been tossed on the stormy waters ofthe ocean on a few frail planks can alone realize theblessings of fair weather."

Monte Cristo rose, and without making any answer (for thetremulousness of his voice would have betrayed his emotion)walked up and down the apartment with a slow step.

"Our magnificence makes you smile, count," said Maximilian,who had followed him with his eyes. "No, no," returned MonteCristo, pale as death, pressing one hand on his heart tostill its throbbings, while with the other he pointed to acrystal cover, beneath which a silken purse lay on a blackvelvet cushion. "I was wondering what could be thesignificance of this purse, with the paper at one end andthe large diamond at the other."

"Count," replied Maximilian, with an air of gravity, "thoseare our most precious family treasures."

"The stone seems very brilliant," answered the count.

"Oh, my brother does not allude to its value, although ithas been estimated at 100,000 francs; he means, that thearticles contained in this purse are the relics of the angelI spoke of just now."

"This I do not comprehend; and yet I may not ask for anexplanation, madame," replied Monte Cristo bowing. "Pardonme, I had no intention of committing an indiscretion."

"Indiscretion, - oh, you make us happy by giving us anexcuse for expatiating on this subject. If we wanted toconceal the noble action this purse commemorates, we shouldnot expose it thus to view. Oh, would we could relate iteverywhere, and to every one, so that the emotion of ourunknown benefactor might reveal his presence."

"Ah, really," said Monte Cristo in a half-stifled voice.

"Monsieur," returned Maximilian, raising the glass cover,and respectfully kissing the silken purse, "this has touchedthe hand of a man who saved my father from suicide, us fromruin, and our name from shame and disgrace, - a man bywhose matchless benevolence we poor children, doomed to wantand wretchedness, can at present hear every one envying ourhappy lot. This letter" (as he spoke, Maximilian drew aletter from the purse and gave it to the count) - "thisletter was written by him the day that my father had taken adesperate resolution, and this diamond was given by thegenerous unknown to my sister as her dowry." Monte Cristoopened the letter, and read it with an indescribable feelingof delight. It was the letter written (as our readers know)to Julie, and signed "Sinbad the Sailor." "Unknown you say,is the man who rendered you this service - unknown to you?"

"Yes; we have never had the happiness of pressing his hand,"continued Maximilian. "We have supplicated heaven in vain togrant us this favor, but the whole affair has had amysterious meaning that we cannot comprehend - we have beenguided by an invisible hand, - a hand as powerful as thatof an enchanter."

"Oh," cried Julie, "I have not lost all hope of some daykissing that hand, as I now kiss the purse which he hastouched. Four years ago, Penelon was at Trieste - Penelon,count, is the old sailor you saw in the garden, and who,from quartermaster, has become gardener - Penelon, when hewas at Trieste, saw on the quay an Englishman, who was onthe point of embarking on board a yacht, and he recognizedhim as the person who called on my father the fifth of June,1829, and who wrote me this letter on the fifth ofSeptember. He felt convinced of his identity, but he did notventure to address him."

"An Englishman," said Monte Cristo, who grew uneasy at theattention with which Julie looked at him. "An Englishman yousay?"

"Yes," replied Maximilian, "an Englishman, who representedhimself as the confidential clerk of the house of Thomson &French, at Rome. It was this that made me start when yousaid the other day, at M. de Morcerf's, that Messrs. Thomson& French were your bankers. That happened, as I told you, in1829. For God's sake, tell me, did you know thisEnglishman?"

"But you tell me, also, that the house of Thomson & Frenchhave constantly denied having rendered you this service?"

"Yes."

"Then is it not probable that this Englishman may be someone who, grateful for a kindness your father had shown him,and which he himself had forgotten, has taken this method ofrequiting the obligation?"

"Everything is possible in this affair, even a miracle."

"What was his name?" asked Monte Cristo.

"He gave no other name," answered Julie, looking earnestlyat the count, "than that at the end of his letter - `Sinbadthe Sailor.'"

"Which is evidently not his real name, but a fictitiousone."

Then, noticing that Julie was struck with the sound of hisvoice, -

"Tell me," continued he, "was he not about my height,perhaps a little taller, with his chin imprisoned, as itwere, in a high cravat; his coat closely buttoned up, andconstantly taking out his pencil?"

"Oh, do you then know him?" cried Julie, whose eyes sparkledwith joy.

"No," returned Monte Cristo "I only guessed. I knew a LordWilmore, who was constantly doing actions of this kind."

"Without revealing himself?"

"He was an eccentric being, and did not believe in theexistence of gratitude."

"Oh, heaven," exclaimed Julie, clasping her hands, "in whatdid he believe, then?"

"He did not credit it at the period which I knew him," saidMonte Cristo, touched to the heart by the accents of Julie'svoice; "but, perhaps, since then he has had proofs thatgratitude does exist."

"And do you know this gentleman, monsieur?" inquiredEmmanuel.

"Oh, if you do know him," cried Julie, "can you tell uswhere he is - where we can find him? Maximilian - Emmanuel- if we do but discover him, he must believe in thegratitude of the heart!" Monte Cristo felt tears start intohis eyes, and he again walked hastily up and down the room.

"In the name of heaven," said Maximilian, "if you knowanything of him, tell us what it is."

"Alas," cried Monte Cristo, striving to repress his emotion,"if Lord Wilmore was your unknown benefactor, I fear youwill never see him again. I parted from him two years ago atPalermo, and he was then on the point of setting out for themost remote regions; so that I fear he will never return."

"Oh, monsieur, this is cruel of you," said Julie, muchaffected; and the young lady's eyes swam with tears.

"Madame," replied Monte Cristo gravely, and gazing earnestlyon the two liquid pearls that trickled down Julie's cheeks,"had Lord Wilmore seen what I now see, he would becomeattached to life, for the tears you shed would reconcile himto mankind;" and he held out his hand to Julie, who gave himhers, carried away by the look and accent of the count."But," continued she, "Lord Wilmore had a family or friends,he must have known some one, can we not - "

"Oh, it is useless to inquire," returned the count;"perhaps, after all, he was not the man you seek for. He wasmy friend: he had no secrets from me, and if this had beenso he would have confided in me."

"And he told you nothing?"

"Not a word."

"Nothing that would lead you to suppose?"

"Nothing."

"And yet you spoke of him at once."

"Ah, in such a case one supposes" -

"Sister, sister," said Maximilian, coming to the count'said, "monsieur is quite right. Recollect what our excellentfather so often told us, `It was no Englishman that thussaved us.'" Monte Cristo started. "What did your father tellyou, M. Morrel?" said he eagerly.

"My father thought that this action had been miraculouslyperformed - he believed that a benefactor had arisen fromthe grave to save us. Oh, it was a touching superstition,monsieur, and although I did not myself believe it, I wouldnot for the world have destroyed my father's faith. Howoften did he muse over it and pronounce the name of a dearfriend - a friend lost to him forever; and on hisdeath-bed, when the near approach of eternity seemed to haveillumined his mind with supernatural light, this thought,which had until then been but a doubt, became a conviction,and his last words were, `Maximilian, it was EdmondDantes!'" At these words the count's paleness, which had forsome time been increasing, became alarming; he could notspeak; he looked at his watch like a man who has forgottenthe hour, said a few hurried words to Madame Herbault, andpressing the hands of Emmanuel and Maximilian, - "Madame,"said he, "I trust you will allow me to visit youoccasionally; I value your friendship, and feel grateful toyou for your welcome, for this is the first time for manyyears that I have thus yielded to my feelings;" and hehastily quitted the apartment.

"This Count of Monte Cristo is a strange man," saidEmmanuel.

"Yes," answered Maximilian, "but I feel sure he has anexcellent heart, and that he likes us."

"His voice went to my heart," observed Julie; "and two orthree times I fancied that I had heard it before."