let it fall again immediately. "Maximilian," said the count,
without appearing to notice the different impressions which his
presence produced 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 I should
take you with me, and did I not tell you yesterday to prepare for
departure?"
"I am ready," said Maximilian; "I came expressly to wish them
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 cured of
his melancholy?" — Morrel turned away to conceal the confusion of
his countenance.
"You perceive, then, that he is not happy?" said the count.
"Yes," replied the young woman; "and fear much that he finds our
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, so
suddenly, without any preparations for your journey, without even a
passport?"
"Needless delays but increase the grief of parting," said Monte
Cristo, "and Maximilian has doubtless provided himself with
everything requisite; at least, I advised him to do so."
"I have a passport, and my clothes are ready packed," said
Morrel in his tranquil but mournful manner.
"Good," said Monte Cristo, smiling; "in these prompt
arrangements we recognize the order of a well-disciplined
soldier."
"And you leave us," said Julie, "at a moment's warning? you do
not give us a day — no, not even an hour before your
departure?"
"My carriage is at the door, madame, and I must be in Rome in
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 his orders for the
next month."Morrel, with a smile full of grief; "I am under his orders for the
next month."
"Oh, heavens, how strangely he expresses himself, count!" said
Julie.
"Maximilian goes with me," said the count, in his kindest and
most persuasive manner; "therefore do not make yourself uneasy 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 certainly concealing
something from us."
"Pshaw!" said Monte Cristo, "you will see him return to you gay,
smiling, and joyful."
Maximilian cast a look of disdain, almost of anger, on the
count.
"We must leave you," said Monte Cristo.
"Before you quit us, count," said Julie, "will you permit us to
express to you all that the other day" —
"Madame," interrupted the count, taking her two hands in his,
"all that you could say in words would never express what I read in
your eyes; the thoughts of your heart are fully understood by mine.
Like benefactors in romances, I should have left you without seeing
you again, but that would have been a virtue beyond my strength,
because I am a weak and vain man, fond of the tender, kind, and
thankful glances of my fellow-creatures. On the eve of departure I
carry my egotism so far as to say, `Do not forget me, my kind
friends, for probably you will never see me again.'"
"Never see you again?" exclaimed Emmanuel, while two large tears
rolled down Julie's cheeks, "never behold you again? It is not a
man, then, but some angel that leaves us, and this angel is on the
point of returning to heaven after having appeared on earth to do
good."
"Say not so," quickly returned Monte Cristo — "say not so, my
friends; angels never err, celestial beings remain where they wish
to be. Fate is not more powerful than they; it is they who, on the
contrary, overcome fate. No, Emmanuel, I am but a man, and your
admiration is as unmerited as your words are sacrilegious." Andadmiration is as unmerited as your words are sacrilegious." And
pressing his lips on the hand of Julie, who rushed into his arms,
he extended his other hand to Emmanuel; then tearing himself from
this abode of peace and happiness, he made a sign to Maximilian,
who followed him passively, with the indifference which had been
perceptible in him ever since the death of Valentine had so stunned
him. "Restore my brother to peace and happiness," whispered Julie
to Monte Cristo. And the count pressed her hand in reply, as he had
done eleven years before on the staircase 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; four powerful
horses were already pawing the ground with impatience, while Ali,
apparently just arrived from a long walk, was standing at the foot
of the steps, his face bathed in perspiration. "Well," asked the
count in Arabic, "have you been to see the old man?" Ali made a
sign in the affirmative.
"And have you placed the letter before him, as I ordered you to
do?"
The slave respectfully signalized that he had. "And what did he
say, or rather do?" Ali placed himself in the light, so that his
master might see him distinctly, and then imitating in his
intelligent manner the countenance of the old man, he closed his
eyes, as Noirtier was in the custom of doing when saying "Yes."
"Good; he accepts," said Monte Cristo. "Now let us go."
These words had scarcely escaped him, when the carriage was on
its way, and the feet of the horses struck a shower of sparks from
the pavement. Maximilian settled himself in his corner without
uttering a word. Half an hour had passed when the carriage stopped
suddenly; the count had just pulled the silken check-string, which
was fastened to Ali's finger. The Nubian immediately descended and
opened the carriage door. It was a lovely starlight night — they