to wealth,
and who have the means of gratifying every wish," said Emmanuel, "know
not what is the real happiness of life, just as those who have been
tossed on the stormy waters of the ocean on a few frail planks can alone
realize the blessings of fair weather."

Monte Cristo rose, and without making any answer (for the tremulousness
of his voice would have betrayed his emotion) walked up and down the
apartment with a slow step.

"Our magnificence makes you smile, count," said Maximilian, who had
followed him with his eyes. "No, no," returned Monte Cristo, pale as
death, pressing one hand on his heart to still its throbbings, while
with the other he pointed to a crystal cover, beneath which a silken
purse lay on a black velvet cushion. "I was wondering what could be
the significance of this purse, with the paper at one end and the large
diamond at the other."

"Count," replied Maximilian, with an air of gravity, "those are our most
precious family treasures."

"The stone seems very brilliant," answered the count.

"Oh, my brother does not allude to its value, although it has been
estimated at 100,000 francs; he means, that the articles contained in
this purse are the relics of the angel I spoke of just now."

"This I do not comprehend; and yet I may not ask for an explanation,
madame," replied Monte Cristo bowing. "Pardon me, I had no intention of
committing an indiscretion."

"Indiscretion,--oh, you make us happy by giving us an excuse for
expatiating on this subject. If we wanted to conceal the noble action
this purse commemorates, we should not expose it thus to view. Oh, would
we could relate it everywhere, and to every one, so that the emotion of
our unknown benefactor might reveal his presence."

"Ah, really," said Monte Cristo in a half-stifled voice.

"Monsieur," returned Maximilian, raising the glass cover, and
respectfully kissing the silken purse, "this has touched the hand of a
man who saved my father from suicide, us from ruin, and our name from
shame and disgrace,--a man by whose matchless benevolence we poor
children, doomed to want and wretchedness, can at present hear every
one envying our happy lot. This letter" (as he spoke, Maximilian drew
a letter from the purse and gave it to the count)--"this letter was
written by him the day that my father had taken a desperate resolution,
and this diamond was given by the generous unknown to my sister as
her dowry." Monte Cristo opened the letter, and