had read different accounts of his death, but the
story seemed to acquire fresh meaning from the voice and expression of
the young girl, and her sympathetic accent and the melancholy expression
of her countenance at once charmed and horrified him. As to Haidee,
these terrible reminiscences seemed to have overpowered her for a
moment, for she ceased speaking, her head leaning on her hand like a
beautiful flower bowing beneath the violence of the storm; and her eyes
gazing on vacancy indicated that she was mentally contemplating the
green summit of the Pindus and the blue waters of the lake of Yanina,
which, like a magic mirror, seemed to reflect the sombre picture
which she sketched. Monte Cristo looked at her with an indescribable
expression of interest and pity.

"Go on," said the count in the Romaic language.

Haidee looked up abruptly, as if the sonorous tones of Monte Cristo's
voice had awakened her from a dream; and she resumed her narrative.
"It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and although the day was
brilliant out-of-doors, we were enveloped in the gloomy darkness of the
cavern. One single, solitary light was burning there, and it appeared
like a star set in a heaven of blackness; it was Selim's flaming lance.
My mother was a Christian, and she prayed. Selim repeated from time to
time the sacred words: 'God is great!' However, my mother had still
some hope. As she was coming down, she thought she recognized the French
officer who had been sent to Constantinople, and in whom my father
placed so much confidence; for he knew that all the soldiers of the
French emperor were naturally noble and generous. She advanced some
steps towards the staircase, and listened. 'They are approaching,' said
she; 'perhaps they bring us peace and liberty!'--'What do you fear,
Vasiliki?' said Selim, in a voice at once so gentle and yet so proud.
'If they do not bring us peace, we will give them war; if they do not
bring life, we will give them death.' And he renewed the flame of his
lance with a gesture which made one think of Dionysus of Crete. [*] But
I, being only a little child, was terrified by this undaunted courage,
which appeared to me both ferocious and senseless, and I recoiled with
horror from the idea of the frightful death amidst fire and flames which
probably awaited us.

* The god of fruitfulness in Grecian mythology. In Crete he
was supposed to be slain in winter with the decay of
vegetation