e creature, to
ensure an inheritance to her son, committed several murders with
poisons. De Villefort himself had buried a child alive, the child of
Madame Danglars and himself. But the child was saved by a Corsican,
Bertuccio. The child, born of crime, had the most criminal instincts.
And one day Monte-Cristo found him in the prison at Toulon. He named him
Benedetto. He assisted him to escape, and Benedetto assassinated
Caderousse. And then Benedetto, tried for this murder, found himself
face to face with his father Villefort, the Procureur de Roi. Benedetto
loudly flung his father's crimes in his face, and Villefort fled from
the court-room. When he reached home Villefort found that his wife had
poisoned herself and his son, the only being he loved. And then
Monte-Cristo appeared before him and told him his real name, Edmond
Dantes! Villefort became insane.

And the work of vengeance was complete. Monte-Cristo was so rich that he
was all-powerful. And yet he was terribly sad, for he was alone. Then
it was that the gentle Haydee consoled him. To their son they gave the
name of Esperance. And Haydee was dead! Esperance was dead!

* * * * *

Ten years had elapsed since that awful night when Monte-Cristo, with
blanched hair, carried away the body of his only son.

A man stood alone on a rock on the island of Monte-Cristo. And this man
was Edmond Dantes. For ten years he had lived on this rock. In all that
time he had not seen a human face nor heard a human voice, except at
rare intervals when some ship, driven from her course by contrary winds,
sent her boats to this island for water. Then Monte-Cristo, concealing
himself, watched these men and heard their joyous laughter.

Once, when Monte-Cristo had been on the rock eight years, he saw a ship
coming toward it at full sail. It was not driven there by contrary winds
or by a storm, and Monte-Cristo saw a man on deck surveying the island
through a glass. Concealing himself he saw several men, whom he did not
know, land, and search the island.

It will be remembered that long before, Ali and Bertuccio had, by their
master's orders, blown up the grottos, the last vestiges of the Spada
treasures.

He saw these men sound the rocks and try them with pickaxes. They were
adventurers, who knew something of what the island had contained, but
yet they found nothing. Monte-Cristo contrived to get near them without
their knowledge. They were dispu