ng Madame de Morcerf, for it was she, from her
stupor. She threw herself into a chair and covered her face with her
hands, moaning piteously:

"Oh! Louise! Louise! I have seen my father! He was one of the robbers!
It is terrible, terrible!"

Captain de Morcerf, who had gone to his wife's side and tenderly taken
her hand, gazed inquiringly at the Count.

"I saw the man she speaks of perfectly," said Monte-Cristo, in reply to
his look, "and he was certainly the Baron Danglars!"

CHAPTER XIII.

MORCERF'S ADVENTURE.

The Count of Monte-Cristo took no steps to have the miscreants who had
invaded the sanctity of his home tracked and apprehended; he did not
even instruct the Commissary of Police of the quarter in regard to what
had happened. He was entirely satisfied that the sole aim of the
wretches had been robbery, and, as that aim had been defeated, he did
not desire to court further publicity by putting the matter in the hands
of the authorities. One thing, however, gave the Count considerable
uneasiness, namely, the fact that Danglars had been one of the robbers.
He did not doubt that the former banker, whom he had financially wrecked
and forced to fly ignominiously from Paris in the past in pursuit of his
scheme of wholesale vengeance against the enemies of his youth, had
planned the robbery in order to gratify his burning thirst for revenge;
he also felt equally certain that Danglars meant further mischief, if he
could accomplish it, and that his presence in the city would be a
constant menace to his tranquillity and prosperity, nay, even to his
domestic happiness; but his feelings had undergone a radical change
since the old days of restless, inexorable retribution, and he now
pitied the man he had so ruthlessly overthrown as much as he had
formerly hated him. Danglars had fallen very low, indeed, to be the
companion and accomplice of midnight marauders, and the Count's very
soul ached as he thought to what depths of poverty and ignominy he had
been the means of reducing him. He would have sought him out amid the
dangerous criminal population of Paris, traced him to his den of
depravity and wretchedness, and offered him money and the means of
social rehabilitation had there been the slightest reason to hope that
he could thereby rescue the miserable man from the slough of iniquity
into which he was plunged, but he knew too well Danglars' implacable
character and deep-seated hatred against himself to att