her
charming face.

"You are an angel, Valentine!" exclaimed Monte-Cristo, enthusiastically.
"Maximilian said awhile ago that no success of any moment had as yet
crowned your united efforts, but his statement was too modest. Your
success has been conspicuous; you have taken the first step that I
designed making and simplified my task to a marked degree. I am deeply
indebted to you both."

M. and Mme. Morrel lifted their hands and shook their heads in protest.

"The debt is all on our side," said Maximilian, deprecatingly, "and no
matter what we may do we can never discharge it. We owe you the
happiness of our lives!"

Monte-Cristo turned the conversation; he took but little credit to
himself for the benefits he had conferred upon his fellow-creatures,
considering that every good action on his part went towards atoning for
the terrible catastrophes he had caused in the prosecution of his
relentless vengeance against his old-time enemies.

"Tell me," said he, addressing M. Morrel, "what is the Viscount's
present condition. Is he recovering?"

Maximilian looked hastily in the direction of Zuleika; the poor girl was
intently watching him, eagerly waiting for his answer. His voice was
somewhat unsteady as he replied:

"Ever since he was placed in the institution of which I told you he has
received the closest and most skilful care, but his progress is very
slow, almost imperceptible, though the physician who is ministering to
him has never ceased to assure us that he will ultimately regain the
full possession of his health and senses."

"Oh! take me to him, take me to him at once!" cried Zuleika, starting to
her feet. "My place is by his side! I will nurse him, I will cure him!"

Monte-Cristo glanced at Maximilian, who shook his head negatively and
whispered in the Count's ear:

"It will never do to take her to him now; the shock of seeing him would
be too great! He would not even recognize her--he recognizes no one!"

Zuleika divined enough of what was passing to realize that Maximilian
opposed her wishes, was striving to prevent her from going to her lover,
from ministering to his wants. She sprang to her father, clasped her
arms about his neck, and, looking pitifully and pleadingly into his
face, exclaimed:

"Oh! take me to Giovanni, take me to him! Do not deny your loving,
dutiful daughter's most earnest prayer! Do not deny it, oh! my beloved
father, do not deny it!"

Monte-Cristo was touched to the very