M. de Boville had indeed met the funeral procession whichwas taking Valentine to her last home on earth. The weatherwas dull and stormy, a cold wind shook the few remainingyellow leaves from the boughs of the trees, and scatteredthem among the crowd which filled the boulevards. M. deVillefort, a true Parisian, considered the cemetery ofPere-la-Chaise alone worthy of receiving the mortal remainsof a Parisian family; there alone the corpses belonging tohim would be surrounded by worthy associates. He hadtherefore purchased a vault, which was quickly occupied bymembers of his family. On the front of the monument wasinscribed: "The families of Saint-Meran and Villefort," forsuch had been the last wish expressed by poor Renee,Valentine's mother. The pompous procession therefore wendedits way towards Pere-la-Chaise from the FaubourgSaint-Honore. Having crossed Paris, it passed through theFaubourg du Temple, then leaving the exterior boulevards, itreached the cemetery. More than fifty private carriagesfollowed the twenty mourning-coaches, and behind them morethan five hundred persons joined in the procession on foot.

These last consisted of all the young people whomValentine's death had struck like a thunderbolt, and who,notwithstanding the raw chilliness of the season, could notrefrain from paying a last tribute to the memory of thebeautiful, chaste, and adorable girl, thus cut off in theflower of her youth. As they left Paris, an equipage withfour horses, at full speed, was seen to draw up suddenly; itcontained Monte Cristo. The count left the carriage andmingled in the crowd who followed on foot. Chateau-Renaudperceived him and immediately alighting from his coupe,joined him.

The count looked attentively through every opening in thecrowd; he was evidently watching for some one, but hissearch ended in disappointment. "Where is Morrel?" he asked;"do either of these gentlemen know where he is?"

"We have already asked that question," said Chateau-Renaud,"for none of us has seen him." The count was silent, butcontinued to gaze around him. At length they arrived at thecemetery. The piercing eye of Monte Cristo glanced throughclusters of bushes and trees, and was soon relieved from allanxiety, for seeing a shadow glide between the yew-trees,Monte Cristo recognized him whom he sought. One funeral isgenerally very much like another in this magnificentmetropolis. Black figures are seen scattered over the longwhite avenues; the silence of earth and heaven is alonebroken by the noise made by the crackling branches of hedgesplanted around the monuments; then follows the melancholychant of the priests, mingled now and then with a sob ofanguish, escaping from some woman concealed behind a mass offlowers.

The shadow Monte Cristo had noticed passed rapidly behindthe tomb of Abelard and Heloise, placed itself close to theheads of the horses belonging to the hearse, and followingthe undertaker's men, arrived with them at the spotappointed for the burial. Each person's attention wasoccupied. Monte Cristo saw nothing but the shadow, which noone else observed. Twice the count left the ranks to seewhether the object of his interest had any concealed weaponbeneath his clothes. When the procession stopped, thisshadow was recognized as Morrel, who, with his coat buttonedup to his throat, his face livid, and convulsively crushinghis hat between his fingers, leaned against a tree, situatedon an elevation commanding the mausoleum, so that none ofthe funeral details could escape his observation. Everythingwas conducted in the usual manner. A few men, the leastimpressed of all by the scene, pronounced a discourse, somedeploring this premature death, others expatiating on thegrief of the father, and one very ingenious person quotingthe fact that Valentine had solicited pardon of her fatherfor criminals on whom the arm of justice was ready to fall- until at length they exhausted their stores of metaphorand mournful speeches.

Monte Cristo heard and saw nothing, or rather he only sawMorrel, whose calmness had a frightful effect on those whoknew what was passing in his heart. "See," said Beauchamp,pointing out Morrel to Debray. "What is he doing up there?"And they called Chateau-Renaud's attention to him.

"How pale he is!" said Chateau-Renaud, shuddering.

"He is cold," said Debray.

"Not at all," said Chateau-Renaud, slowly; "I think he isviolently agitated. He is very susceptible."

"Bah," said Debray; "he scarcely knew Mademoiselle deVillefort; you said so yourself."

"True. Still I remember he danced three times with her atMadame de Morcerf's. Do you recollect that ball, count,where you produced such an effect?"

"No, I do not," replied Monte Cristo, without even knowingof what or to whom he was speaking, so much was he occupiedin watching Morrel, who was holding his breath with emotion."The discourse is over; farewell, gentlemen," said thecount. And he disappeared without anyone seeing whither hewent. The funeral being over, the guests returned to Paris.Chateau-Renaud looked for a moment for Morrel; but whilethey were watching the departure of the count, Morrel hadquitted his post, and Chateau-Renaud, failing in his search,joined Debray and Beauchamp.

Monte Cristo concealed himself behind a large tomb andawaited the arrival of Morrel, who by degrees approached thetomb now abandoned by spectators and workmen. Morrel threw aglance around, but before it reached the spot occupied byMonte Cristo the latter had advanced yet nearer, stillunperceived. The young man knelt down. The count, withoutstretched neck and glaring eyes, stood in an attitudeready to pounce upon Morrel upon the first occasion. Morrelbent his head till it touched the stone, then clutching thegrating with both hands, he murmured, - "Oh, Valentine!"The count's heart was pierced by the utterance of these twowords; he stepped forward, and touching the young man'sshoulder, said, - "I was looking for you, my friend." MonteCristo expected a burst of passion, but he was deceived, forMorrel turning round, said calmly, -

"You see I was praying." The scrutinizing glance of thecount searched the young man from head to foot. He thenseemed more easy.

"Shall I drive you back to Paris?" he asked.

"No, thank you."

"Do you wish anything?"

"Leave me to pray." The count withdrew without opposition,but it was only to place himself in a situation where hecould watch every movement of Morrel, who at length arose,brushed the dust from his knees, and turned towards Paris,without once looking back. He walked slowly down the Rue dela Roquette. The count, dismissing his carriage, followedhim about a hundred paces behind. Maximilian crossed thecanal and entered the Rue Meslay by the boulevards. Fiveminutes after the door had been closed on Morrel's entrance,it was again opened for the count. Julie was at the entranceof the garden, where she was attentively watching Penelon,who, entering with zeal into his profession of gardener, wasvery busy grafting some Bengal roses. "Ah, count," sheexclaimed, with the delight manifested by every member ofthe family whenever he visited the Rue Meslay.

"Maximilian has just returned, has he not, madame?" askedthe count.

"Yes, I think I saw him pass; but pray, call Emmanuel."

"Excuse me, madame, but I must go up to Maximilian's roomthis instant," replied Monte Cristo, "I have something ofthe greatest importance to tell him."

"Go, then," she said with a charming smile, whichaccompanied him until he had disappeared. Monte Cristo soonran up the staircase conducting from the ground-floor toMaximilian's room; when he reached the landing he listenedattentively, but all was still. Like many old housesoccupied by a single family, the room door was panelled withglass; but it was locked, Maximilian was shut in, and it wasimpossible to see what was passing in the room, because ared curtain was drawn before the glass. The count's anxietywas manifested by a bright color which seldom appeared onthe face of that imperturbable man.

"What shall I do!" he uttered, and reflected for a moment;"shall I ring? No, the sound of a bell, announcing avisitor, will but accelerate the resolution of one inMaximilian's situation, and then the bell would be followedby a louder noise." Monte Cristo trembled from head to footand as if his determination had been taken with the rapidityof lightning, he struck one of the panes of glass with hiselbow; the glass was shivered to atoms, then withdrawing thecurtain he saw Morrel, who had been writing at his desk,bound from his seat at the noise of the broken window.

"I beg a thousand pardons," said the count, "there isnothing the matter, but I slipped down and broke one of yourpanes of glass with my elbow. Since it is opened, I willtake advantage of it to enter your room; do not disturbyourself - do not disturb yourself!" And passing his handthrough the broken glass, the count opened the door. Morrel,evidently discomposed, came to meet Monte Cristo less withthe intention of receiving him than to exclude his entry."Ma foi," said Monte Cristo, rubbing his elbow, "it's allyour servant's fault; your stairs are so polished, it islike walking on glass."

"Are you hurt, sir?" coldly asked Morrel.

"I believe not. But what are you about there? You werewriting."

"I?"

"Your fingers are stained with ink."

"Ah, true, I was writing. I do sometimes, soldier though Iam."

Monte Cristo advanced into the room; Maximilian was obligedto let him pass, but he followed him. "You were writing?"said Monte Cristo with a searching look.

"I have already had the honor of telling you I was," saidMorrel.

The count looked around him. "Your pistols are beside yourdesk," said Monte Cristo, pointing with his finger to thepistols on the table.

"I am on the point of starting on a journey," replied Morreldisdainfully.

"My friend," exclaimed Monte Cristo in a tone of exquisitesweetness.

"Sir?"

"My friend, my dear Maximilian, do not make a hastyresolution, I entreat you."

"I make a hasty resolution?" said Morrel, shrugging hisshoulders; "is there anything extraordinary in a journey?"

"Maximilian," said the count, "let us both lay aside themask we have assumed. You no more deceive me with that falsecalmness than I impose upon you with my frivoloussolicitude. You can understand, can you not, that to haveacted as I have done, to have broken that glass, to haveintruded on the solitude of a friend - you can understandthat, to have done all this, I must have been actuated byreal uneasiness, or rather by a terrible conviction. Morrel,you are going to destroy yourself!"

"Indeed, count," said Morrel, shuddering; "what has put thisinto your head?"

"I tell you that you are about to destroy yourself,"continued the count, "and here is proof of what I say;" and,approaching the desk, he removed the sheet of paper whichMorrel had placed over the letter he had begun, and took thelatter in his hands.

Morrel rushed forward to tear it from him, but Monte Cristoperceiving his intention, seized his wrist with his irongrasp. "You wish to destroy yourself," said the count; "youhave written it."

"Well," said Morrel, changing his expression of calmness forone of violence - "well, and if I do intend to turn thispistol against myself, who shall prevent me - who will dareprevent me? All my hopes are blighted, my heart is broken,my life a burden, everything around me is sad and mournful;earth has become distasteful to me, and human voicesdistract me. It is a mercy to let me die, for if I live Ishall lose my reason and become mad. When, sir, I tell youall this with tears of heartfelt anguish, can you reply thatI am wrong, can you prevent my putting an end to mymiserable existence? Tell me, sir, could you have thecourage to do so?"

"Yes, Morrel," said Monte Cristo, with a calmness whichcontrasted strangely with the young man's excitement; "yes,I would do so."

"You?" exclaimed Morrel, with increasing anger and reproach- "you, who have deceived me with false hopes, who havecheered and soothed me with vain promises, when I might, ifnot have saved her, at least have seen her die in my arms!You, who pretend to understand everything, even the hiddensources of knowledge, - and who enact the part of aguardian angel upon earth, and could not even find anantidote to a poison administered to a young girl! Ah, sir,indeed you would inspire me with pity, were you not hatefulin my eyes."

"Morrel" -

"Yes; you tell me to lay aside the mask, and I will do so,be satisfied! When you spoke to me at the cemetery, Ianswered you - my heart was softened; when you arrivedhere, I allowed you to enter. But since you abuse myconfidence, since you have devised a new torture after Ithought I had exhausted them all, then, Count of MonteCristo my pretended benefactor - then, Count of MonteCristo, the universal guardian, be satisfied, you shallwitness the death of your friend;" and Morrel, with amaniacal laugh, again rushed towards the pistols.

"And I again repeat, you shall not commit suicide."

"Prevent me, then!" replied Morrel, with another struggle,which, like the first, failed in releasing him from thecount's iron grasp.

"I will prevent you."

"And who are you, then, that arrogate to yourself thistyrannical right over free and rational beings?"

"Who am I?" repeated Monte Cristo. "Listen; I am the onlyman in the world having the right to say to you, `Morrel,your father's son shall not die to-day;'" and Monte Cristo,with an expression of majesty and sublimity, advanced witharms folded toward the young man, who, involuntarilyovercome by the commanding manner of this man, recoiled astep.

"Why do you mention my father?" stammered he; "why do youmingle a recollection of him with the affairs of today?"

"Because I am he who saved your father's life when he wishedto destroy himself, as you do to-day - because I am the manwho sent the purse to your young sister, and the Pharaon toold Morrel - because I am the Edmond Dantes who nursed you,a child, on my knees." Morrel made another step back,staggering, breathless, crushed; then all his strength giveway, and he fell prostrate at the feet of Monte Cristo. Thenhis admirable nature underwent a complete and suddenrevulsion; he arose, rushed out of the room and to thestairs, exclaiming energetically, "Julie, Julie - Emmanuel,Emmanuel!"

Monte Cristo endeavored also to leave, but Maximilian wouldhave died rather than relax his hold of the handle of thedoor, which he closed upon the count. Julie, Emmanuel, andsome of the servants, ran up in alarm on hearing the criesof Maximilian. Morrel seized their hands, and opening thedoor exclaimed in a voice choked with sobs, "On your knees- on your knees - he is our benefactor - the saviour ofour father! He is" -

He would have added "Edmond Dantes," but the count seizedhis arm and prevented him. Julie threw herself into the armsof the count; Emmanuel embraced him as a guardian angel;Morrel again fell on his knees, and struck the ground withhis forehead. Then the iron-hearted man felt his heart swellin his breast; a flame seemed to rush from his throat to hiseyes, he bent his head and wept. For a while nothing washeard in the room but a succession of sobs, while theincense from their grateful hearts mounted to heaven. Juliehad scarcely recovered from her deep emotion when she rushedout of the room, descended to the next floor, ran into thedrawing-room with childlike joy and raised the crystal globewhich covered the purse given by the unknown of the Alleesde Meillan. Meanwhile, Emmanuel in a broken voice said tothe count, "Oh, count, how could you, hearing us so oftenspeak of our unknown benefactor, seeing us pay such homageof gratitude and adoration to his memory, - how could youcontinue so long without discovering yourself to us? Oh, itwas cruel to us, and - dare I say it? - to you also."

"Listen, my friends," said the count - "I may call you sosince we have really been friends for the last eleven years- the discovery of this secret has been occasioned by agreat event which you must never know. I wish to bury itduring my whole life in my own bosom, but your brotherMaximilian wrested it from me by a violence he repents ofnow, I am sure." Then turning around, and seeing thatMorrel, still on his knees, had thrown himself into anarm-chair, be added in a low voice, pressing Emmanuel's handsignificantly, "Watch over him."

"Why so?" asked the young man, surprised.

"I cannot explain myself; but watch over him." Emmanuellooked around the room and caught sight of the pistols; hiseyes rested on the weapons, and he pointed to them. MonteCristo bent his head. Emmanuel went towards the pistols."Leave them," said Monte Cristo. Then walking towardsMorrel, he took his hand; the tumultuous agitation of theyoung man was succeeded by a profound stupor. Juliereturned, holding the silken purse in her hands, while tearsof joy rolled down her cheeks, like dewdrops on the rose.

"Here is the relic," she said; "do not think it will be lessdear to us now we are acquainted with our benefactor!"

"My child," said Monte Cristo, coloring, "allow me to takeback that purse? Since you now know my face, I wish to beremembered alone through the affection I hope you will grantme.

"Oh," said Julie, pressing the purse to her heart, "no, no,I beseech you do not take it, for some unhappy day you willleave us, will you not?"

"You have guessed rightly, madame," replied Monte Cristo,smiling; "in a week I shall have left this country, where somany persons who merit the vengeance of heaven livedhappily, while my father perished of hunger and grief."While announcing his departure, the count fixed his eyes onMorrel, and remarked that the words, "I shall have left thiscountry," had failed to rouse him from his lethargy. He thensaw that he must make another struggle against the grief ofhis friend, and taking the hands of Emmanuel and Julie,which he pressed within his own, he said with the mildauthority of a father, "My kind friends, leave me alone withMaximilian." Julie saw the means offered of carrying off herprecious relic, which Monte Cristo had forgotten. She drewher husband to the door. "Let us leave them," she said. Thecount was alone with Morrel, who remained motionless as astatue.

"Come," said Monte-Cristo, touching his shoulder with hisfinger, "are you a man again, Maximilian?"

"Yes; for I begin to suffer again."

The count frowned, apparently in gloomy hesitation.

"Maximilian, Maximilian," he said, "the ideas you yield toare unworthy of a Christian."

"Oh, do not fear, my friend," said Morrel, raising his head,and smiling with a sweet expression on the count; "I shallno longer attempt my life."

"Then we are to have no more pistols - no more despair?"

"No; I have found a better remedy for my grief than either abullet or a knife."

"Poor fellow, what is it?"

"My grief will kill me of itself."

"My friend," said Monte Cristo, with an expression ofmelancholy equal to his own, "listen to me. One day, in amoment of despair like yours, since it led to a similarresolution, I also wished to kill myself; one day yourfather, equally desperate, wished to kill himself too. Ifany one had said to your father, at the moment he raised thepistol to his head - if any one had told me, when in myprison I pushed back the food I had not tasted for threedays - if anyone had said to either of us then, `Live - the day will come when you will be happy, and will blesslife!' - no matter whose voice had spoken, we should haveheard him with the smile of doubt, or the anguish ofincredulity, - and yet how many times has your fatherblessed life while embracing you - how often have I myself"-

"Ah," exclaimed Morrel, interrupting the count, "you hadonly lost your liberty, my father had only lost his fortune,but I have lost Valentine."

"Look at me," said Monte Cristo, with that expression whichsometimes made him so eloquent and persuasive - "look atme. There are no tears in my eyes, nor is there fever in myveins, yet I see you suffer - you, Maximilian, whom I loveas my own son. Well, does not this tell you that in grief,as in life, there is always something to look forward tobeyond? Now, if I entreat, if I order you to live, Morrel,it is in the conviction that one day you will thank me forhaving preserved your life."

"Oh, heavens," said the young man, "oh, heavens - what areyou saying, count? Take care. But perhaps you have neverloved!"

"Child!" replied the count.

"I mean, as I love. You see, I have been a soldier eversince I attained manhood. I reached the age of twenty-ninewithout loving, for none of the feelings I before thenexperienced merit the apellation of love. Well, attwenty-nine I saw Valentine; for two years I have loved her,for two years I have seen written in her heart, as in abook, all the virtues of a daughter and wife. Count, topossess Valentine would have been a happiness too infinite,too ecstatic, too complete, too divine for this world, sinceit has been denied me; but without Valentine the earth isdesolate."

"I have told you to hope," said the count.

"Then have a care, I repeat, for you seek to persuade me,and if you succeed I should lose my reason, for I shouldhope that I could again behold Valentine." The count smiled."My friend, my father," said Morrel with excitement, "have acare, I again repeat, for the power you wield over me alarmsme. Weigh your words before you speak, for my eyes havealready become brighter, and my heart beats strongly; becautious, or you will make me believe in supernaturalagencies. I must obey you, though you bade me call forth thedead or walk upon the water."

"Hope, my friend," repeated the count.

"Ah," said Morrel, falling from the height of excitement tothe abyss of despair - "ah, you are playing with me, likethose good, or rather selfish mothers who soothe theirchildren with honeyed words, because their screams annoythem. No, my friend, I was wrong to caution you; do notfear, I will bury my grief so deep in my heart, I willdisguise it so, that you shall not even care to sympathizewith me. Adieu, my friend, adieu!"

"On the contrary," said the count, "after this time you mustlive with me - you must not leave me, and in a week weshall have left France behind us."

"And you still bid me hope?"

"I tell you to hope, because I have a method of curing you."

"Count, you render me sadder than before, if it be possible.You think the result of this blow has been to produce anordinary grief, and you would cure it by an ordinary remedy- change of scene." And Morrel dropped his head withdisdainful incredulity. "What can I say more?" asked MonteCristo. "I have confidence in the remedy I propose, and onlyask you to permit me to assure you of its efficacy."

"Count, you prolong my agony."

"Then," said the count, "your feeble spirit will not evengrant me the trial I request? Come - do you know of whatthe Count of Monte Cristo is capable? do you know that heholds terrestrial beings under his control? nay, that he canalmost work a miracle? Well, wait for the miracle I hope toaccomplish, or" -

"Or?" repeated Morrel.

"Or, take care, Morrel, lest I call you ungrateful."

"Have pity on me, count!"

"I feel so much pity towards you, Maximilian, that - listento me attentively - if I do not cure you in a month, to theday, to the very hour, mark my words, Morrel, I will placeloaded pistols before you, and a cup of the deadliestItalian poison - a poison more sure and prompt than thatwhich has killed Valentine."

"Will you promise me?"

"Yes; for I am a man, and have suffered like yourself, andalso contemplated suicide; indeed, often since misfortunehas left me I have longed for the delights of an eternalsleep."

"But you are sure you will promise me this?" said Morrel,intoxicated. "I not only promise, but swear it!" said MonteCristo extending his hand.

"In a month, then, on your honor, if I am not consoled, youwill let me take my life into my own hands, and whatever mayhappen you will not call me ungrateful?"

"In a month, to the day, the very hour and the date aresacred, Maximilian. I do not know whether you remember thatthis is the 5th of September; it is ten years to-day since Isaved your father's life, who wished to die." Morrel seizedthe count's hand and kissed it; the count allowed him to paythe homage he felt due to him. "In a month you will find onthe table, at which we shall be then sitting, good pistolsand a delicious draught; but, on the other hand, you mustpromise me not to attempt your life before that time."

"Oh, I also swear it!" Monte Cristo drew the young mantowards him, and pressed him for some time to his heart."And now," he said, "after to-day, you will come and livewith me; you can occupy Haidee's apartment, and my daughterwill at least be replaced by my son."

"Haidee?" said Morrel, "what has become of her?"

"She departed last night."

"To leave you?"

"To wait for me. Hold yourself ready then to join me at theChamps Elysees, and lead me out of this house without anyone seeing my departure." Maximilian hung his head, andobeyed with childlike reverence.