the Turkey carpet in
which the Baron's feet had sunk to the instep, as well as the tapestry
hanging in front of the doors, was in the same condition. The divan in
the recess had been riddled by worms and the silver scabbards of the
stand of Arabian swords that surmounted it were tarnished, the gems in
the handles of the weapons alone retaining their brilliancy. The once
beautiful lamp of Venice glass hanging from the ceiling, which Ali had
filled and lighted, was also tarnished and its delicately shaped globe
was cracked from top to bottom. Monte-Cristo sadly contemplated this
scene of ruin and decay, but he contemplated it only for a moment. Then
he turned to Zuleika and said:

"My child, this was once my salon and its beauty riveted the eyes of all
who saw it, but I deserted it and time has done its work, aided by
neglect--its beauty is no more! Shall I raise another ghost of the past
and show you its former occupant?"

"Surely, I see him before me, do I not?" said Zuleika, gazing tenderly
at her father.

"Not as he was, my child, not as he was. Wait here a few moments, with
my faithful Ali as your guard and protector, and I will invoke the
fantastic apparition!"

As he spoke he raised the faded tapestry, revealing the door leading to
the inner apartment; opening this door and closing it behind him he was
lost to sight; the tapestry fell back to its place, masking the point of
entrance.

After a brief absence he reappeared dressed in his famous Tunisian
costume, but that, alas! had also lost its pristine glory like
everything else in this abandoned subterranean abode. Still the wrecks
were there--the red cap with the long blue silk tassel; the vest of
black cloth embroidered with gold; the pantaloons of deep red; the
large, full gaiters of the same color, embroidered with gold like the
vest; the yellow slippers; the cachemire around his waist, and the
small, crooked cangiar passed through his girdle.

Zuleika gazed at him in amazement. In his faded, tarnished, moth-eaten
finery he, indeed, looked like a fantastic apparition, a picturesque
ghost of the past.

"Come, Zuleika," said he, "as I am in my festal attire let us visit the
salle-a-manger!"

He moved aside the tapestry once more and again opened the door leading
to the other apartment. Zuleika entered and the Count followed her, Ali
remaining in the outer chamber to guard against surprise or intrusion.
The marvellous salle-a-manger was precisely the sa