The recent event formed the theme of conversation throughoutall Paris. Emmanuel and his wife conversed with naturalastonishment in their little apartment in the Rue Meslayupon the three successive, sudden, and most unexpectedcatastrophes of Morcerf, Danglars, and Villefort.Maximilian, who was paying them a visit, listened to theirconversation, or rather was present at it, plunged in hisaccustomed state of apathy. "Indeed," said Julie, "might wenot almost fancy, Emmanuel, that those people, so rich, sohappy but yesterday, had forgotten in their prosperity thatan evil genius - like the wicked fairies in Perrault'sstories who present themselves unbidden at a wedding orbaptism - hovered over them, and appeared all at once torevenge himself for their fatal neglect?"

"What a dire misfortune!" said Emmanuel, thinking of Morcerfand Danglars.

"What dreadful sufferings!" said Julie, rememberingValentine, but whom, with a delicacy natural to women, shedid not name before her brother.

"If the Supreme Being has directed the fatal blow," saidEmmanuel, "it must be that he in his great goodness hasperceived nothing in the past lives of these people to meritmitigation of their awful punishment."

"Do you not form a very rash judgment, Emmanuel?" saidJulie. "When my father, with a pistol in his hand, was onceon the point of committing suicide, had any one then said,`This man deserves his misery,' would not that person havebeen deceived?"

"Yes; but your father was not allowed to fall. A being wascommissioned to arrest the fatal hand of death about todescend on him."

Emmanuel had scarcely uttered these words when the sound ofthe bell was heard, the well-known signal given by theporter that a visitor had arrived. Nearly at the sameinstant the door was opened and the Count of Monte Cristoappeared on the threshold. The young people uttered a cry ofjoy, while Maximilian raised his head, but let it fall againimmediately. "Maximilian," said the count, without appearingto notice the different impressions which his presenceproduced on the little circle, "I come to seek you."

"To seek me?" repeated Morrel, as if awakening from a dream.

"Yes," said Monte Cristo; "has it not been agreed that Ishould take you with me, and did I not tell you yesterday toprepare for departure?"

"I am ready," said Maximilian; "I came expressly to wishthem farewell."

"Whither are you going, count?" asked Julie.

"In the first instance to Marseilles, madame."

"To Marseilles!" exclaimed the young couple.

"Yes, and I take your brother with me."

"Oh, count." said Julie, "will you restore him to us curedof his melancholy?" - Morrel turned away to conceal theconfusion of his countenance.

"You perceive, then, that he is not happy?" said the count."Yes," replied the young woman; "and fear much that he findsour home but a dull one."

"I will undertake to divert him," replied the count.

"I am ready to accompany you, sir," said Maximilian. "Adieu,my kind friends! Emmanuel - Julie - farewell!"

"How farewell?" exclaimed Julie; "do you leave us thus, sosuddenly, without any preparations for your journey, withouteven a passport?"

"Needless delays but increase the grief of parting," saidMonte Cristo, "and Maximilian has doubtless provided himselfwith everything requisite; at least, I advised him to doso."

"I have a passport, and my clothes are ready packed," saidMorrel in his tranquil but mournful manner.

"Good," said Monte Cristo, smiling; "in these promptarrangements we recognize the order of a well-disciplinedsoldier."

"And you leave us," said Julie, "at a moment's warning? youdo not give us a day - no, not even an hour before yourdeparture?"

"My carriage is at the door, madame, and I must be in Romein five days."

"But does Maximilian go to Rome?" exclaimed Emmanuel.

"I am going wherever it may please the count to take me,"said Morrel, with a smile full of grief; "I am under hisorders for the next month."

"Oh, heavens, how strangely he expresses himself, count!"said Julie.

"Maximilian goes with me," said the count, in his kindestand most persuasive manner; "therefore do not make yourselfuneasy on your brother's account."

"Once more farewell, my dear sister; Emmanuel, adieu!"Morrel repeated.

"His carelessness and indifference touch me to the heart,"said Julie. "Oh, Maximilian, Maximilian, you are certainlyconcealing something from us."

"Pshaw!" said Monte Cristo, "you will see him return to yougay, smiling, and joyful."

Maximilian cast a look of disdain, almost of anger, on thecount.

"We must leave you," said Monte Cristo.

"Before you quit us, count," said Julie, "will you permit usto express to you all that the other day" -

"Madame," interrupted the count, taking her two hands inhis, "all that you could say in words would never expresswhat I read in your eyes; the thoughts of your heart arefully understood by mine. Like benefactors in romances, Ishould have left you without seeing you again, but thatwould have been a virtue beyond my strength, because I am aweak and vain man, fond of the tender, kind, and thankfulglances of my fellow-creatures. On the eve of departure Icarry my egotism so far as to say, `Do not forget me, mykind friends, for probably you will never see me again.'"

"Never see you again?" exclaimed Emmanuel, while two largetears rolled down Julie's cheeks, "never behold you again?It is not a man, then, but some angel that leaves us, andthis angel is on the point of returning to heaven afterhaving appeared on earth to do good."

"Say not so," quickly returned Monte Cristo - "say not so,my friends; angels never err, celestial beings remain wherethey wish to be. Fate is not more powerful than they; it isthey who, on the contrary, overcome fate. No, Emmanuel, I ambut a man, and your admiration is as unmerited as your wordsare sacrilegious." And pressing his lips on the hand ofJulie, who rushed into his arms, he extended his other handto Emmanuel; then tearing himself from this abode of peaceand happiness, he made a sign to Maximilian, who followedhim passively, with the indifference which had beenperceptible in him ever since the death of Valentine had sostunned him. "Restore my brother to peace and happiness,"whispered Julie to Monte Cristo. And the count pressed herhand in reply, as he had done eleven years before on thestaircase leading to Morrel's study.

"You still confide, then, in Sinbad the Sailor?" asked he,smiling.

"Oh, yes," was the ready answer.

"Well, then, sleep in peace, and put your trust in heaven."As we have before said, the postchaise was waiting; fourpowerful horses were already pawing the ground withimpatience, while Ali, apparently just arrived from a longwalk, was standing at the foot of the steps, his face bathedin perspiration. "Well," asked the count in Arabic, "haveyou been to see the old man?" Ali made a sign in theaffirmative.

"And have you placed the letter before him, as I ordered youto do?"

The slave respectfully signalized that he had. "And what didhe say, or rather do?" Ali placed himself in the light, sothat his master might see him distinctly, and then imitatingin his intelligent manner the countenance of the old man, heclosed his eyes, as Noirtier was in the custom of doing whensaying "Yes."

"Good; he accepts," said Monte Cristo. "Now let us go."

These words had scarcely escaped him, when the carriage wason its way, and the feet of the horses struck a shower ofsparks from the pavement. Maximilian settled himself in hiscorner without uttering a word. Half an hour had passed whenthe carriage stopped suddenly; the count had just pulled thesilken check-string, which was fastened to Ali's finger. TheNubian immediately descended and opened the carriage door.It was a lovely starlight night - they had just reached thetop of the hill Villejuif, from whence Paris appears like asombre sea tossing its millions of phosphoric waves intolight - waves indeed more noisy, more passionate, morechangeable, more furious, more greedy, than those of thetempestuous ocean, - waves which never rest as those of thesea sometimes do, - waves ever dashing, ever foaming, everingulfing what falls within their grasp. The count stoodalone, and at a sign from his hand, the carriage went on fora short distance. With folded arms, he gazed for some timeupon the great city. When he had fixed his piercing look onthis modern Babylon, which equally engages the contemplationof the religious enthusiast, the materialist, and thescoffer, - "Great city," murmured he, inclining his head,and joining his hands as if in prayer, "less than six monthshave elapsed since first I entered thy gates. I believe thatthe Spirit of God led my steps to thee and that he alsoenables me to quit thee in triumph; the secret cause of mypresence within thy walls I have confided alone to him whoonly has had the power to read my heart. God only knows thatI retire from thee without pride or hatred, but not withoutmany regrets; he only knows that the power confided to mehas never been made subservient to my personal good or toany useless cause. Oh, great city, it is in thy palpitatingbosom that I have found that which I sought; like a patientminer, I have dug deep into thy very entrails to root outevil thence. Now my work is accomplished, my mission isterminated, now thou canst neither afford me pain norpleasure. Adieu, Paris, adieu!"

His look wandered over the vast plain like that of somegenius of the night; he passed his hand over his brow, gotinto the carriage, the door was closed on him, and thevehicle quickly disappeared down the other side of the hillin a whirlwind of noise and dust.

Ten leagues were passed and not a single word was uttered.

Morrel was dreaming, and Monte Cristo was looking at thedreamer.

"Morrel," said the count to him at length, "do you repenthaving followed me?"

"No, count; but to leave Paris" -

"If I thought happiness might await you in Paris, Morrel, Iwould have left you there."

"Valentine reposes within the walls of Paris, and to leaveParis is like losing her a second time."

"Maximilian," said the count, "the friends that we have lostdo not repose in the bosom of the earth, but are buried deepin our hearts, and it has been thus ordained that we mayalways be accompanied by them. I have two friends, who inthis way never depart from me; the one who gave me being,and the other who conferred knowledge and intelligence onme. Their spirits live in me. I consult them when doubtful,and if I ever do any good, it is due to their beneficentcounsels. Listen to the voice of your heart, Morrel, and askit whether you ought to preserve this melancholy exteriortowards me."

"My friend," said Maximilian, "the voice of my heart is verysorrowful, and promises me nothing but misfortune."

"It is the way of weakened minds to see everything through ablack cloud. The soul forms its own horizons; your soul isdarkened, and consequently the sky of the future appearsstormy and unpromising."

"That may possibly be true," said Maximilian, and he againsubsided into his thoughtful mood.

The journey was performed with that marvellous rapiditywhich the unlimited power of the count ever commanded. Townsfled from them like shadows on their path, and trees shakenby the first winds of autumn seemed like giants madlyrushing on to meet them, and retreating as rapidly when oncereached. The following morning they arrived at Chalons,where the count's steamboat waited for them. Without theloss of an instant, the carriage was placed on board and thetwo travellers embarked without delay. The boat was builtfor speed; her two paddle-wheels were like two wings withwhich she skimmed the water like a bird. Morrel was notinsensible to that sensation of delight which is generallyexperienced in passing rapidly through the air, and the windwhich occasionally raised the hair from his forehead seemedon the point of dispelling momentarily the clouds collectedthere.

As the distance increased between the travellers and Paris,almost superhuman serenity appeared to surround the count;he might have been taken for an exile about to revisit hisnative land. Ere long Marseilles presented herself to view,- Marseilles, white, fervid, full of life and energy, - Marseilles, the younger sister of Tyre and Carthage, thesuccessor to them in the empire of the Mediterranean, - Marseilles, old, yet always young. Powerful memories werestirred within them by the sight of the round tower, FortSaint-Nicolas, the City Hall designed by Puget,* the portwith its brick quays, where they had both played inchildhood, and it was with one accord that they stopped onthe Cannebiere. A vessel was setting sail for Algiers, onboard of which the bustle usually attending departureprevailed. The passengers and their relations crowded on thedeck, friends taking a tender but sorrowful leave of eachother, some weeping, others noisy in their grief, the wholeforming a spectacle that might be exciting even to those whowitnessed similar sights daily, but which had no power todisturb the current of thought that had taken possession ofthe mind of Maximilian from the moment he had set foot onthe broad pavement of the quay.

Pierre Puget, the sculptor-architect, was born atMarseilles in 1622.

"Here," said he, leaning heavily on the arm of Monte Cristo,- "here is the spot where my father stopped, when thePharaon entered the port; it was here that the good old man,whom you saved from death and dishonor, threw himself intomy arms. I yet feel his warm tears on my face, and his werenot the only tears shed, for many who witnessed our meetingwept also." Monte Cristo gently smiled and said, - "I wasthere;" at the same time pointing to the corner of a street.As he spoke, and in the very direction he indicated, agroan, expressive of bitter grief, was heard, and a womanwas seen waving her hand to a passenger on board the vesselabout to sail. Monte Cristo looked at her with an emotionthat must have been remarked by Morrel had not his eyes beenfixed on the vessel.

"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Morrel, "I do not deceive myself - that young man who is waving his hat, that youth in theuniform of a lieutenant, is Albert de Morcerf!"

"Yes," said Monte Cristo, "I recognized him."

"How so? - you were looking the other way." the countsmiled, as he was in the habit of doing when he did not wantto make any reply, and he again turned towards the veiledwoman, who soon disappeared at the corner of the street.Turning to his friend, - "Dear Maximilian," said the count,"have you nothing to do in this land?"

"I have to weep over the grave of my father," replied Morrelin a broken voice.

"Well, then, go, - wait for me there, and I will soon joinyou."

"You leave me, then?"

"Yes; I also have a pious visit to pay."

Morrel allowed his hand to fall into that which the countextended to him; then with an inexpressibly sorrowfulinclination of the head he quitted the count and bent hissteps to the east of the city. Monte Cristo remained on thesame spot until Maximilian was out of sight; he then walkedslowly towards the Allees de Meillan to seek out a smallhouse with which our readers were made familiar at thebeginning of this story. It yet stood, under the shade ofthe fine avenue of lime-trees, which forms one of the mostfrequent walks of the idlers of Marseilles, covered by animmense vine, which spreads its aged and blackened branchesover the stone front, burnt yellow by the ardent sun of thesouth. Two stone steps worn away by the friction of manyfeet led to the door, which was made of three planks; thedoor had never been painted or varnished, so great cracksyawned in it during the dry season to close again when therains came on. The house, with all its crumbling antiquityand apparent misery, was yet cheerful and picturesque, andwas the same that old Dantes formerly inhabited - the onlydifference being that the old man occupied merely thegarret, while the whole house was now placed at the commandof Mercedes by the count.

The woman whom the count had seen leave the ship with somuch regret entered this house; she had scarcely closed thedoor after her when Monte Cristo appeared at the corner of astreet, so that he found and lost her again almost at thesame instant. The worn out steps were old acquaintances ofhis; he knew better than any one else how to open thatweather-beaten door with the large headed nail which servedto raise the latch within. He entered without knocking, orgiving any other intimation of his presence, as if he hadbeen a friend or the master of the place. At the end of apassage paved with bricks, was a little garden, bathed insunshine, and rich in warmth and light. In this gardenMercedes had found, at the place indicated by the count, thesum of money which he, through a sense of delicacy, haddescribed as having been placed there twenty-four yearspreviously. The trees of the garden were easily seen fromthe steps of the street-door. Monte Cristo, on stepping intothe house, heard a sigh that was almost a deep sob; helooked in the direction whence it came, and there under anarbor of Virginia jessamine,* with its thick foliage andbeautiful long purple flowers, he saw Mercedes seated, withher head bowed, and weeping bitterly. She had raised herveil, and with her face hidden by her hands was giving freescope to the sighs and tears which had been so longrestrained by the presence of her son. Monte Cristo advanceda few steps, which were heard on the gravel. Mercedes raisedher head, and uttered a cry of terror on beholding a manbefore her.

The Carolina - not Virginia - jessamine, gelsemiumsempervirens (properly speaking not a jessamine at all) hasyellow blossoms. The reference is no doubt to the Wistariafrutescens. - Ed.

"Madame," said the count, "it is no longer in my power torestore you to happiness, but I offer you consolation; willyou deign to accept it as coming from a friend?"

"I am, indeed, most wretched," replied Mercedes. "Alone inthe world, I had but my son, and he has left me!"

"He possesses a noble heart, madame," replied the count,"and he has acted rightly. He feels that every man owes atribute to his country; some contribute their talents,others their industry; these devote their blood, those theirnightly labors, to the same cause. Had he remained with you,his life must have become a hateful burden, nor would hehave participated in your griefs. He will increase instrength and honor by struggling with adversity, which hewill convert into prosperity. Leave him to build up thefuture for you, and I venture to say you will confide it tosafe hands."

"Oh," replied the wretched woman, mournfully shaking herhead, "the prosperity of which you speak, and which, fromthe bottom of my heart, I pray God in his mercy to granthim, I can never enjoy. The bitter cup of adversity has beendrained by me to the very dregs, and I feel that the graveis not far distant. You have acted kindly, count, inbringing me back to the place where I have enjoyed so muchbliss. I ought to meet death on the same spot wherehappiness was once all my own."

"Alas," said Monte Cristo, "your words sear and embitter myheart, the more so as you have every reason to hate me. Ihave been the cause of all your misfortunes; but why do youpity, instead of blaming me? You render me still moreunhappy" -

"Hate you, blame you - you, Edmond! Hate, reproach, the manthat has spared my son's life! For was it not your fatal andsanguinary intention to destroy that son of whom M. deMorcerf was so proud? Oh, look at me closely, and discoverif you can even the semblance of a reproach in me." Thecount looked up and fixed his eyes on Mercedes, who arosepartly from her seat and extended both her hands towardshim. "Oh, look at me," continued she, with a feeling ofprofound melancholy, "my eyes no longer dazzle by theirbrilliancy, for the time has long fled since I used to smileon Edmond Dantes, who anxiously looked out for me from thewindow of yonder garret, then inhabited by his old father.Years of grief have created an abyss between those days andthe present. I neither reproach you nor hate you, my friend.Oh, no, Edmond, it is myself that I blame, myself that Ihate! Oh, miserable creature that I am!" cried she, claspingher hands, and raising her eyes to heaven. "I once possessedpiety, innocence, and love, the three ingredients of thehappiness of angels, and now what am I?" Monte Cristoapproached her, and silently took her hand. "No," said she,withdrawing it gently - "no, my friend, touch me not. Youhave spared me, yet of all those who have fallen under yourvengeance I was the most guilty. They were influenced byhatred, by avarice, and by self-love; but I was base, andfor want of courage acted against my judgment. Nay, do notpress my hand, Edmond; you are thinking, I am sure, of somekind speech to console me, but do not utter it to me,reserve it for others more worthy of your kindness. See"(and she exposed her face completely to view) - "see,misfortune has silvered my hair, my eyes have shed so manytears that they are encircled by a rim of purple, and mybrow is wrinkled. You, Edmond, on the contrary, - you arestill young, handsome, dignified; it is because you have hadfaith; because you have had strength, because you have hadtrust in God, and God has sustained you. But as for me, Ihave been a coward; I have denied God and he has abandonedme."

Mercedes burst into tears; her woman's heart was breakingunder its load of memories. Monte Cristo took her hand andimprinted a kiss on it; but she herself felt that it was akiss of no greater warmth than he would have bestowed on thehand of some marble statue of a saint. "It often happens,"continued she, "that a first fault destroys the prospects ofa whole life. I believed you dead; why did I survive you?What good has it done me to mourn for you eternally in thesecret recesses of my heart? - only to make a woman ofthirty-nine look like a woman of fifty. Why, havingrecognized you, and I the only one to do so - why was Iable to save my son alone? Ought I not also to have rescuedthe man that I had accepted for a husband, guilty though hewere? Yet I let him die! What do I say? Oh, mercifulheavens, was I not accessory to his death by my supineinsensibility, by my contempt for him, not remembering, ornot willing to remember, that it was for my sake he hadbecome a traitor and a perjurer? In what am I benefited byaccompanying my son so far, since I now abandon him, andallow him to depart alone to the baneful climate of Africa?Oh, I have been base, cowardly, I tell you; I have abjuredmy affections, and like all renegades I am of evil omen tothose who surround me!"

"No, Mercedes," said Monte Cristo, "no; you judge yourselfwith too much severity. You are a noble-minded woman, and itwas your grief that disarmed me. Still I was but an agent,led on by an invisible and offended Deity, who chose not towithhold the fatal blow that I was destined to hurl. I takethat God to witness, at whose feet I have prostrated myselfdaily for the last ten years, that I would have sacrificedmy life to you, and with my life the projects that wereindissolubly linked with it. But - and I say it with somepride, Mercedes - God needed me, and I lived. Examine thepast and the present, and endeavor to dive into futurity,and then say whether I am not a divine instrument. The mostdreadful misfortunes, the most frightful sufferings, theabandonment of all those who loved me, the persecution ofthose who did not know me, formed the trials of my youth;when suddenly, from captivity, solitude, misery, I wasrestored to light and liberty, and became the possessor of afortune so brilliant, so unbounded, so unheard-of, that Imust have been blind not to be conscious that God hadendowed me with it to work out his own great designs. Fromthat time I looked upon this fortune as something confidedto me for an especial purpose. Not a thought was given to alife which you once, Mercedes, had the power to renderblissful; not one hour of peaceful calm was mine; but I feltmyself driven on like an exterminating angel. Likeadventurous captains about to embark on some enterprise fullof danger, I laid in my provisions, I loaded my weapons, Icollected every means of attack and defence; I inured mybody to the most violent exercises, my soul to the bitteresttrials; I taught my arm to slay, my eyes to beholdexcruciating sufferings, and my mouth to smile at the mosthorrid spectacles. Good-natured, confiding, and forgiving asI had been, I became revengeful, cunning, and wicked, orrather, immovable as fate. Then I launched out into the paththat was opened to me. I overcame every obstacle, andreached the goal; but woe to those who stood in my pathway!"

"Enough," said Mercedes; "enough, Edmond! Believe me, thatshe who alone recognized you has been the only one tocomprehend you; and had she crossed your path, and you hadcrushed her like glass, still, Edmond, still she must haveadmired you! Like the gulf between me and the past, there isan abyss between you, Edmond, and the rest of mankind; and Itell you freely that the comparison I draw between you andother men will ever be one of my greatest tortures. No,there is nothing in the world to resemble you in worth andgoodness! But we must say farewell, Edmond, and let uspart."

"Before I leave you, Mercedes, have you no request to make?"said the count.

"I desire but one thing in this world, Edmond, - thehappiness of my son."

"Pray to the Almighty to spare his life, and I will takeupon myself to promote his happiness."

"Thank you, Edmond."

"But have you no request to make for yourself, Mercedes?"

"For myself I want nothing. I live, as it were, between twograves. One is that of Edmond Dantes, lost to me long, longsince. He had my love! That word ill becomes my faded lipnow, but it is a memory dear to my heart, and one that Iwould not lose for all that the world contains. The othergrave is that of the man who met his death from the hand ofEdmond Dantes. I approve of the deed, but I must pray forthe dead."

"Your son shall be happy, Mercedes," repeated the count.

"Then I shall enjoy as much happiness as this world canpossibly confer."

"But what are your intentions?"

"To say that I shall live here, like the Mercedes of othertimes, gaining my bread by labor, would not be true, norwould you believe me. I have no longer the strength to doanything but to spend my days in prayer. However, I shallhave no occasion to work, for the little sum of money buriedby you, and which I found in the place you mentioned, willbe sufficient to maintain me. Rumor will probably be busyrespecting me, my occupations, my manner of living - thatwill signify but little."

"Mercedes," said the count, "I do not say it to blame you,but you made an unnecessary sacrifice in relinquishing thewhole of the fortune amassed by M. de Morcerf; half of it atleast by right belonged to you, in virtue of your vigilanceand economy."

"I perceive what you are intending to propose to me; but Icannot accept it, Edmond - my son would not permit it."

"Nothing shall be done without the full approbation ofAlbert de Morcerf. I will make myself acquainted with hisintentions and will submit to them. But if he be willing toaccept my offers, will you oppose them?"

"You well know, Edmond, that I am no longer a reasoningcreature; I have no will, unless it be the will never todecide. I have been so overwhelmed by the many storms thathave broken over my head, that I am become passive in thehands of the Almighty, like a sparrow in the talons of aneagle. I live, because it is not ordained for me to die. Ifsuccor be sent to me, I will accept it."

"Ah, madame," said Monte Cristo, "you should not talk thus!It is not so we should evince our resignation to the will ofheaven; on the contrary, we are all free agents."

"Alas!" exclaimed Mercedes, "if it were so, if I possessedfree-will, but without the power to render that willefficacious, it would drive me to despair." Monte Cristodropped his head and shrank from the vehemence of her grief."Will you not even say you will see me again?" he asked.

"On the contrary, we shall meet again," said Mercedes,pointing to heaven with solemnity. "I tell you so to proveto you that I still hope." And after pressing her owntrembling hand upon that of the count, Mercedes rushed upthe stairs and disappeared. Monte Cristo slowly left thehouse and turned towards the quay. But Mercedes did notwitness his departure, although she was seated at the littlewindow of the room which had been occupied by old Dantes.Her eyes were straining to see the ship which was carryingher son over the vast sea; but still her voice involuntarilymurmured softly, "Edmond, Edmond, Edmond!"