It was about six o'clock in the evening; an opal-coloredlight, through which an autumnal sun shed its golden rays,descended on the blue ocean. The heat of the day hadgradually decreased, and a light breeze arose, seeming likethe respiration of nature on awakening from the burningsiesta of the south. A delicious zephyr played along thecoasts of the Mediterranean, and wafted from shore to shorethe sweet perfume of plants, mingled with the fresh smell ofthe sea.

A light yacht, chaste and elegant in its form, was glidingamidst the first dews of night over the immense lake,extending from Gibraltar to the Dardanelles, and from Tunisto Venice. The vessel resembled a swan with its wings openedtowards the wind, gliding on the water. It advanced swiftlyand gracefully, leaving behind it a glittering stretch offoam. By degrees the sun disappeared behind the westernhorizon; but as though to prove the truth of the fancifulideas in heathen mythology, its indiscreet rays reappearedon the summit of every wave, as if the god of fire had justsunk upon the bosom of Amphitrite, who in vain endeavored tohide her lover beneath her azure mantle. The yacht movedrapidly on, though there did not appear to be sufficientwind to ruffle the curls on the head of a young girl.Standing on the prow was a tall man, of a dark complexion,who saw with dilating eyes that they were approaching a darkmass of land in the shape of a cone, which rose from themidst of the waves like the hat of a Catalan. "Is that MonteCristo?" asked the traveller, to whose orders the yacht wasfor the time submitted, in a melancholy voice.

"Yes, your excellency," said the captain, "we have reachedit."

"We have reached it!" repeated the traveller in an accent ofindescribable sadness. Then he added, in a low tone, "Yes;that is the haven." And then he again plunged into a trainof thought, the character of which was better revealed by asad smile, than it would have been by tears. A few minutesafterwards a flash of light, which was extinguishedinstantly, was seen on the land, and the sound of firearmsreached the yacht.

"Your excellency," said the captain, "that was the landsignal, will you answer yourself?"

"What signal?" The captain pointed towards the island, upthe side of which ascended a volume of smoke, increasing asit rose. "Ah, yes," he said, as if awaking from a dream."Give it to me."

The captain gave him a loaded carbine; the traveller slowlyraised it, and fired in the air. Ten minutes afterwards, thesails were furled, and they cast anchor about a hundredfathoms from the little harbor. The gig was already lowered,and in it were four oarsmen and a coxswain. The travellerdescended, and instead of sitting down at the stern of theboat, which had been decorated with a blue carpet for hisaccommodation, stood up with his arms crossed. The rowerswaited, their oars half lifted out of the water, like birdsdrying their wings.

"Give way," said the traveller. The eight oars fell into thesea simultaneously without splashing a drop of water, andthe boat, yielding to the impulsion, glided forward. In aninstant they found themselves in a little harbor, formed ina natural creek; the boat grounded on the fine sand.

"Will your excellency be so good as to mount the shouldersof two of our men, they will carry you ashore?" The youngman answered this invitation with a gesture of indifference,and stepped out of the boat; the sea immediately rose to hiswaist. "Ah, your excellency," murmured the pilot, "youshould not have done so; our master will scold us for it."The young man continued to advance, following the sailors,who chose a firm footing. Thirty strides brought them to dryland; the young man stamped on the ground to shake off thewet, and looked around for some one to show him his road,for it was quite dark. Just as he turned, a hand rested onhis shoulder, and a voice which made him shudder exclaimed,- "Good-evening, Maximilian; you are punctual, thank you!"

"Ah, is it you, count?" said the young man, in an almostjoyful accent, pressing Monte Cristo's hand with both hisown.

"Yes; you see I am as exact as you are. But you aredripping, my dear fellow; you must change your clothes, asCalypso said to Telemachus. Come, I have a habitationprepared for you in which you will soon forget fatigue andcold." Monte Cristo perceived that the young man had turnedaround; indeed, Morrel saw with surprise that the men whohad brought him had left without being paid, or uttering aword. Already the sound of their oars might be heard as theyreturned to the yacht.

"Oh, yes," said the count, "you are looking for thesailors."

"Yes, I paid them nothing, and yet they are gone."

"Never mind that, Maximilian," said Monte Cristo, smiling."I have made an agreement with the navy, that the access tomy island shall be free of all charge. I have made abargain." Morrel looked at the count with surprise. "Count,"he said, "you are not the same here as in Paris."

"How so?"

"Here you laugh." The count's brow became clouded. "You areright to recall me to myself, Maximilian," he said; "I wasdelighted to see you again, and forgot for the moment thatall happiness is fleeting."

"Oh, no, no, count," cried Maximilian, seizing the count'shands, "pray laugh; be happy, and prove to me, by yourindifference, that life is endurable to sufferers. Oh, howcharitable, kind, and good you are; you affect this gayetyto inspire me with courage."

"You are wrong, Morrel; I was really happy."

"Then you forget me, so much the better."

"How so?"

"Yes; for as the gladiator said to the emperor, when heentered the arena, `He who is about to die salutes you.'"

"Then you are not consoled?" asked the count, surprised.

"Oh," exclaimed Morrel, with a glance full of bitterreproach, "do you think it possible that I could be?"

"Listen," said the count. "Do you understand the meaning ofmy words? You cannot take me for a commonplace man, a mererattle, emitting a vague and senseless noise. When I ask youif you are consoled, I speak to you as a man for whom thehuman heart has no secrets. Well, Morrel, let us bothexamine the depths of your heart. Do you still feel the samefeverish impatience of grief which made you start like awounded lion? Have you still that devouring thirst which canonly be appeased in the grave? Are you still actuated by theregret which drags the living to the pursuit of death; orare you only suffering from the prostration of fatigue andthe weariness of hope deferred? Has the loss of memoryrendered it impossible for you to weep? Oh, my dear friend,if this be the case, - if you can no longer weep, if yourfrozen heart be dead, if you put all your trust in God,then, Maximilian, you are consoled - do not complain."

"Count," said Morrel, in a firm and at the same time softvoice, "listen to me, as to a man whose thoughts are raisedto heaven, though he remains on earth; I come to die in thearms of a friend. Certainly, there are people whom I love. Ilove my sister Julie, - I love her husband Emmanuel; but Irequire a strong mind to smile on my last moments. My sisterwould be bathed in tears and fainting; I could not bear tosee her suffer. Emmanuel would tear the weapon from my hand,and alarm the house with his cries. You, count, who are morethan mortal, will, I am sure, lead me to death by a pleasantpath, will you not?"

"My friend," said the count, "I have still one doubt, - areyou weak enough to pride yourself upon your sufferings?"

"No, indeed, - I am calm," said Morrel, giving his hand tothe count; "my pulse does not beat slower or faster thanusual. No, I feel that I have reached the goal, and I willgo no farther. You told me to wait and hope; do you knowwhat you did, unfortunate adviser? I waited a month, orrather I suffered for a month! I did hope (man is a poorwretched creature), I did hope. What I cannot tell, - something wonderful, an absurdity, a miracle, - of whatnature he alone can tell who has mingled with our reasonthat folly we call hope. Yes, I did wait - yes, I did hope,count, and during this quarter of an hour we have beentalking together, you have unconsciously wounded, torturedmy heart, for every word you have uttered proved that therewas no hope for me. Oh, count, I shall sleep calmly,deliciously in the arms of death." Morrel uttered thesewords with an energy which made the count shudder. "Myfriend," continued Morrel, "you named the fifth of Octoberas the end of the period of waiting, - to-day is the fifthof October," he took out his watch, "it is now nine o'clock,- I have yet three hours to live."

"Be it so," said the count, "come." Morrel mechanicallyfollowed the count, and they had entered the grotto beforehe perceived it. He felt a carpet under his feet, a dooropened, perfumes surrounded him, and a brilliant lightdazzled his eyes. Morrel hesitated to advance; he dreadedthe enervating effect of all that he saw. Monte Cristo drewhim in gently. "Why should we not spend the last three hoursremaining to us of life, like those ancient Romans, who whencondemned by Nero, their emperor and heir, sat down at atable covered with flowers, and gently glided into death,amid the perfume of heliotropes and roses?" Morrel smiled."As you please," he said; "death is always death, - that isforgetfulness, repose, exclusion from life, and thereforefrom grief." He sat down, and Monte Cristo placed himselfopposite to him. They were in the marvellous dining-roombefore described, where the statues had baskets on theirheads always filled with fruits and flowers. Morrel hadlooked carelessly around, and had probably noticed nothing.

"Let us talk like men," he said, looking at the count.

"Go on!"

"Count," said Morrel, "you are the epitome of all humanknowledge, and you seem like a being descended from a wiserand more advanced world than ours."

"There is something true in what you say," said the count,with that smile which made him so handsome; "I havedescended from a planet called grief."

"I believe all you tell me without questioning its meaning;for instance, you told me to live, and I did live; you toldme to hope, and I almost did so. I am almost inclined to askyou, as though you had experienced death, `is it painful todie?'"

Monte Cristo looked upon Morrel with indescribabletenderness. "Yes," he said, "yes, doubtless it is painful,if you violently break the outer covering which obstinatelybegs for life. If you plunge a dagger into your flesh, ifyou insinuate a bullet into your brain, which the leastshock disorders, - then certainly, you will suffer pain,and you will repent quitting a life for a repose you havebought at so dear a price."

"Yes; I know that there is a secret of luxury and pain indeath, as well as in life; the only thing is to understandit."

"You have spoken truly, Maximilian; according to the care webestow upon it, death is either a friend who rocks us gentlyas a nurse, or an enemy who violently drags the soul fromthe body. Some day, when the world is much older, and whenmankind will be masters of all the destructive powers innature, to serve for the general good of humanity; whenmankind, as you were just saying, have discovered thesecrets of death, then that death will become as sweet andvoluptuous as a slumber in the arms of your beloved."

"And if you wished to die, you would choose this death,count?"

"Yes."

Morrel extended his hand. "Now I understand," he said, "whyyou had me brought here to this desolate spot, in the midstof the ocean, to this subterranean palace; it was becauseyou loved me, was it not, count? It was because you loved mewell enough to give me one of those sweet means of death ofwhich we were speaking; a death without agony, a death whichallows me to fade away while pronouncing Valentine's nameand pressing your hand."

"Yes, you have guessed rightly, Morrel," said the count,"that is what I intended."

"Thanks; the idea that tomorrow I shall no longer suffer, issweet to my heart."

"Do you then regret nothing?"

"No," replied Morrel.

"Not even me?" asked the count with deep emotion. Morrel'sclear eye was for the moment clouded, then it shone withunusual lustre, and a large tear rolled down his cheek.

"What," said the count, "do you still regret anything in theworld, and yet die?"

"Oh, I entreat you," exclaimed Morrel in a low voice, "donot speak another word, count; do not prolong mypunishment." The count fancied that he was yielding, andthis belief revived the horrible doubt that had overwhelmedhim at the Chateau d'If. "I am endeavoring," he thought, "tomake this man happy; I look upon this restitution as aweight thrown into the scale to balance the evil I havewrought. Now, supposing I am deceived, supposing this manhas not been unhappy enough to merit happiness. Alas, whatwould become of me who can only atone for evil by doinggood?" Then he said aloud: "Listen, Morrel, I see your griefis great, but still you do not like to risk your soul."Morrel smiled sadly. "Count," he said, "I swear to you mysoul is no longer my own."

"Maximilian, you know I have no relation in the world. Ihave accustomed myself to regard you as my son: well, then,to save my son, I will sacrifice my life, nay, even myfortune."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that you wish to quit life because you do notunderstand all the enjoyments which are the fruits of alarge fortune. Morrel, I possess nearly a hundred millionsand I give them to you; with such a fortune you can attainevery wish. Are you ambitions? Every career is open to you.Overturn the world, change its character, yield to madideas, be even criminal - but live."

"Count, I have your word," said Morrel coldly; then takingout his watch, he added, "It is half-past eleven."

"Morrel, can you intend it in my house, under my very eyes?"

"Then let me go," said Maximilian, "or I shall think you didnot love me for my own sake, but for yours; "and he arose.

"It is well," said Monte Cristo whose countenance brightenedat these words; "you wish - you are inflexible. Yes, as yousaid, you are indeed wretched and a miracle alone can cureyou. Sit down, Morrel, and wait."

Morrel obeyed; the count arose, and unlocking a closet witha key suspended from his gold chain, took from it a littlesilver casket, beautifully carved and chased, the corners ofwhich represented four bending figures, similar to theCaryatides, the forms of women, symbols of the angelsaspiring to heaven. He placed the casket on the table; thenopening it took out a little golden box, the top of whichflew open when touched by a secret spring. This boxcontained an unctuous substance partly solid, of which itwas impossible to discover the color, owing to thereflection of the polished gold, sapphires, rubies,emeralds, which ornamented the box. It was a mixed mass ofblue, red, and gold. The count took out a small quantity ofthis with a gilt spoon, and offered it to Morrel, fixing along steadfast glance upon him. It was then observable thatthe substance was greenish.

"This is what you asked for," he said, "and what I promisedto give you."

"I thank you from the depths of my heart," said the youngman, taking the spoon from the hands of Monte Cristo. Thecount took another spoon, and again dipped it into thegolden box. "What are you going to do, my friend?" askedMorrel, arresting his hand.

"Well, the fact is, Morrel, I was thinking that I too amweary of life, and since an opportunity presents itself" -

"Stay!" said the young man. "You who love, and are beloved;you, who have faith and hope, - oh, do not follow myexample. In your case it would be a crime. Adieu, my nobleand generous friend, adieu; I will go and tell Valentinewhat you have done for me." And slowly, though without anyhesitation, only waiting to press the count's handfervently, he swallowed the mysterious substance offered byMonte Cristo. Then they were both silent. Ali, mute andattentive, brought the pipes and coffee, and disappeared. Bydegrees, the light of the lamps gradually faded in the handsof the marble statues which held them, and the perfumesappeared less powerful to Morrel. Seated opposite to him,Monte Cristo watched him in the shadow, and Morrel sawnothing but the bright eyes of the count. An overpoweringsadness took possession of the young man, his hands relaxedtheir hold, the objects in the room gradually lost theirform and color, and his disturbed vision seemed to perceivedoors and curtains open in the walls.

"Friend," he cried, "I feel that I am dying; thanks!" Hemade a last effort to extend his hand, but it fell powerlessbeside him. Then it appeared to him that Monte Cristosmiled, not with the strange and fearful expression whichhad sometimes revealed to him the secrets of his heart, butwith the benevolent kindness of a father for a child. At thesame time the count appeared to increase in stature, hisform, nearly double its usual height, stood out in reliefagainst the red tapestry, his black hair was thrown back,and he stood in the attitude of an avenging angel. Morrel,overpowered, turned around in the arm-chair; a delicioustorpor permeated every vein. A change of ideas presentedthemselves to his brain, like a new design on thekaleidoscope. Enervated, prostrate, and breathless, hebecame unconscious of outward objects; he seemed to beentering that vague delirium preceding death. He wished onceagain to press the count's hand, but his own was immovable.He wished to articulate a last farewell, but his tongue laymotionless and heavy in his throat, like a stone at themouth of a sepulchre. Involuntarily his languid eyes closed,and still through his eyelashes a well-known form seemed tomove amid the obscurity with which he thought himselfenveloped.

The count had just opened a door. Immediately a brilliantlight from the next room, or rather from the palaceadjoining, shone upon the room in which he was gentlygliding into his last sleep. Then he saw a woman ofmarvellous beauty appear on the threshold of the doorseparating the two rooms. Pale, and sweetly smiling, shelooked like an angel of mercy conjuring the angel ofvengeance. "Is it heaven that opens before me?" thought thedying man; "that angel resembles the one I have lost." MonteCristo pointed out Morrel to the young woman, who advancedtowards him with clasped hands and a smile upon her lips.

"Valentine, Valentine!" he mentally ejaculated; but his lipsuttered no sound, and as though all his strength werecentred in that internal emotion, he sighed and closed hiseyes. Valentine rushed towards him; his lips again moved.

"He is calling you," said the count; "he to whom you haveconfided your destiny - he from whom death would haveseparated you, calls you to him. Happily, I vanquisheddeath. Henceforth, Valentine, you will never again beseparated on earth, since he has rushed into death to findyou. Without me, you would both have died. May God accept myatonement in the preservation of these two existences!"

Valentine seized the count's hand, and in her irresistibleimpulse of joy carried it to her lips.

"Oh, thank me again!" said the count; "tell me till you areweary, that I have restored you to happiness; you do notknow how much I require this assurance."

"Oh, yes, yes, I thank you with all my heart," saidValentine; "and if you doubt the sincerity of my gratitude,oh, then, ask Haidee! ask my beloved sister Haidee, who eversince our departure from France, has caused me to waitpatiently for this happy day, while talking to me of you."

"You then love Haidee?" asked Monte Cristo with an emotionhe in vain endeavored to dissimulate.

"Oh, yes, with all my soul."

"Well, then, listen, Valentine," said the count; "I have afavor to ask of you."

"Of me? Oh, am I happy enough for that?"

"Yes; you have called Haidee your sister, - let her becomeso indeed, Valentine; render her all the gratitude you fancythat you owe to me; protect her, for" (the count's voice wasthick with emotion) "henceforth she will be alone in theworld."

"Alone in the world!" repeated a voice behind the count,"and why?"

Monte Cristo turned around; Haidee was standing pale,motionless, looking at the count with an expression offearful amazement.

"Because to-morrow, Haidee, you will be free; you will thenassume your proper position in society, for I will not allowmy destiny to overshadow yours. Daughter of a prince, Irestore to you the riches and name of your father."

Haidee became pale, and lifting her transparent hands toheaven, exclaimed in a voice stifled with tears, "Then youleave me, my lord?"

"Haidee, Haidee, you are young and beautiful; forget even myname, and be happy."

"It is well," said Haidee; "your order shall be executed, mylord; I will forget even your name, and be happy." And shestepped back to retire.

"Oh, heavens," exclaimed Valentine, who was supporting thehead of Morrel on her shoulder, "do you not see how pale sheis? Do you not see how she suffers?"

Haidee answered with a heartrending expression, "Why shouldhe understand this, my sister? He is my master, and I am hisslave; he has the right to notice nothing."

The count shuddered at the tones of a voice which penetratedthe inmost recesses of his heart; his eyes met those of theyoung girl and he could not bear their brilliancy. "Oh,heavens," exclaimed Monte Cristo, "can my suspicions becorrect? Haidee, would it please you not to leave me?"

"I am young," gently replied Haidee; "I love the life youhave made so sweet to me, and I should be sorry to die."

"You mean, then, that if I leave you, Haidee" -

"I should die; yes, my lord."

"Do you then love me?"

"Oh, Valentine, he asks if I love him. Valentine, tell himif you love Maximilian." The count felt his heart dilate andthrob; he opened his arms, and Haidee, uttering a cry,sprang into them. "Oh, yes," she cried, "I do love you! Ilove you as one loves a father, brother, husband! I love youas my life, for you are the best, the noblest of createdbeings!"

"Let it be, then, as you wish, sweet angel; God hassustained me in my struggle with my enemies, and has givenme this reward; he will not let me end my triumph insuffering; I wished to punish myself, but he has pardonedme. Love me then, Haidee! Who knows? perhaps your love willmake me forget all that I do not wish to remember."

"What do you mean, my lord?"

"I mean that one word from you has enlightened me more thantwenty years of slow experience; I have but you in theworld, Haidee; through you I again take hold on life,through you I shall suffer, through you rejoice."

"Do you hear him, Valentine?" exclaimed Haidee; "he saysthat through me he will suffer - through me, who wouldyield my life for his." The count withdrew for a moment."Have I discovered the truth?" he said; "but whether it befor recompense or punishment, I accept my fate. Come,Haidee, come!" and throwing his arm around the young girl'swaist, he pressed the hand of Valentine, and disappeared.

An hour had nearly passed, during which Valentine,breathless and motionless, watched steadfastly over Morrel.At length she felt his heart beat, a faint breath playedupon his lips, a slight shudder, announcing the return oflife, passed through the young man's frame. At length hiseyes opened, but they were at first fixed andexpressionless; then sight returned, and with it feeling andgrief. "Oh," he cried, in an accent of despair, "the counthas deceived me; I am yet living; "and extending his handtowards the table, he seized a knife.

"Dearest," exclaimed Valentine, with her adorable smile,"awake, and look at me!" Morrel uttered a loud exclamation,and frantic, doubtful, dazzled, as though by a celestialvision, he fell upon his knees.

The next morning at daybreak, Valentine and Morrel werewalking arm-in-arm on the sea-shore, Valentine relating howMonte Cristo had appeared in her room, explained everything,revealed the crime, and, finally, how he had saved her lifeby enabling her to simulate death. They had found the doorof the grotto opened, and gone forth; on the azure dome ofheaven still glittered a few remaining stars. Morrel soonperceived a man standing among the rocks, apparentlyawaiting a sign from them to advance, and pointed him out toValentine. "Ah, it is Jacopo," she said, "the captain of theyacht; "and she beckoned him towards them.

"Do you wish to speak to us?" asked Morrel.

"I have a letter to give you from the count."

"From the count!" murmured the two young people.

"Yes; read it." Morrel opened the letter, and read: -

"My Dear Maximilian, -

"There is a felucca for you at anchor. Jacopo will carry youto Leghorn, where Monsieur Noirtier awaits hisgranddaughter, whom he wishes to bless before you lead herto the altar. All that is in this grotto, my friend, myhouse in the Champs Elysees, and my chateau at Treport, arethe marriage gifts bestowed by Edmond Dantes upon the son ofhis old master, Morrel. Mademoiselle de Villefort will sharethem with you; for I entreat her to give to the poor theimmense fortune reverting to her from her father, now amadman, and her brother who died last September with hismother. Tell the angel who will watch over your futuredestiny, Morrel, to pray sometimes for a man, who like Satanthought himself for an instant equal to God, but who nowacknowledges with Christian humility that God alonepossesses supreme power and infinite wisdom. Perhaps thoseprayers may soften the remorse he feels in his heart. As foryou, Morrel, this is the secret of my conduct towards you.There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there isonly the comparison of one state with another, nothing more.He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experiencesupreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die,Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of living.

"Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, andnever forget that until the day when God shall deign toreveal the future to man, all human wisdom is summed up inthese two words, - `Wait and hope.' Your friend,

"Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte Cristo."

During the perusal of this letter, which informed Valentinefor the first time of the madness of her father and thedeath of her brother, she became pale, a heavy sigh escapedfrom her bosom, and tears, not the less painful because theywere silent, ran down her cheeks; her happiness cost hervery dear. Morrel looked around uneasily. "But," he said,"the count's generosity is too overwhelming; Valentine willbe satisfied with my humble fortune. Where is the count,friend? Lead me to him." Jacopo pointed towards the horizon."What do you mean?" asked Valentine. "Where is the count? - where is Haidee?"

"Look!" said Jacopo.

The eyes of both were fixed upon the spot indicated by thesailor, and on the blue line separating the sky from theMediterranean Sea, they perceived a large white sail."Gone," said Morrel; "gone! - adieu, my friend - adieu, myfather!"

"Gone," murmured Valentine; "adieu, my sweet Haidee - adieu, my sister!"

"Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?" saidMorrel with tearful eyes.

"Darling," replied Valentine, "has not the count just toldus that all human wisdom is summed up in two words? - `Waitand hope.'"