this terrible place,
and enable me to take this poor child with me."

"No, sir!" answered Benedetto, slowly. "I will not aid you to escape,
and you will not save this woman."

"Ah! I understand you. You are the accomplice of these scoundrels. Very
well; I will make a way for myself."

He drew his revolvers from his pocket, and pointed one at Benedetto.

"Move!" he cried, "or I will kill you as I would a dog!"

"You would commit murder then, would you?"

"No--it would be simple self-protection. I am not your prisoner, and
this woman ought to be sacred to you."

"This woman," said Benedetto, "tells you she comes here not of her own
free will. Do you believe her?"

"Jane! answer him, my beloved! Tell him he lies!"

Benedetto started back.

"Jane Zeld," he said, "tell the absolute truth. Tell the Vicomte if you
consider yourself worthy of him." Jane turned her weary eyes upon the
Vicomte. "Tell him if the daughter of the Lyons outcast has any right to
lean on the arm of the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo. Jane Zeld, think of the
past. Tell this gentleman who your mother was. Tell him where she died."

"No, no!" cried Jane. "Enough! enough!"

"No, it is not enough. Lead the Vicomte to your mother's tomb and there
place your hand in his, if you dare!"

"Be silent!" cried Esperance, who felt himself growing mad.

"But this is not all," continued Benedetto. "Jane Zeld, shall I tell the
Vicomte the name of your father?"

"I know it not!"

"Have you forgotten the man who took you from a wretched house at the
time of your mother's death? This man was Sanselme, the former
priest--Sanselme, the former convict, and your father! And now, Vicomte,
will you kill me? Do so, if you dare!"

Jane fell back, fainting.

"She is dead!" cried Esperance. "Ah! coward and assassin, I will have
your life for this. Have you arms? I wish you to have some chance."

Benedetto threw aside the mantle he wore and showed two swords, one of
which he threw at the feet of Esperance.

Yes, he had long craved this duel, and, sure of his ability, felt that
he had to do with a mere boy.

Esperance seized the sword, and went up to Benedetto.

"You have insulted me," he said, gravely, "in insulting this woman who
is dearer to me than life itself; it matters little who you are, prepare
to die."

This room was a singular duelling ground, but Esperance cared little for
that. His pulse beat no more quickly than usual. He had greatly changed
in t