ll this frightful
tumult and these terrific cries, two reports, fearfully distinct,
followed by two shrieks more heartrending than all, froze me with
terror. These two shots had mortally wounded my father, and it was he
who had given utterance to these frightful cries. However, he remained
standing, clinging to a window. My mother tried to force the door, that
she might go and die with him, but it was fastened on the inside. All
around him were lying the Palikares, writhing in convulsive agonies,
while two or three who were only slightly wounded were trying to
escape by springing from the windows. At this crisis the whole flooring
suddenly gave way, my father fell on one knee, and at the same moment
twenty hands were thrust forth, armed with sabres, pistols, and
poniards--twenty blows were instantaneously directed against one man,
and my father disappeared in a whirlwind of fire and smoke kindled by
these demons, and which seemed like hell itself opening beneath his
feet. I felt myself fall to the ground, my mother had fainted."

Haidee's arms fell by her side, and she uttered a deep groan, at the
same time looking towards the count as if to ask if he were satisfied
with her obedience to his commands. Monte Cristo arose and approached
her, took her hand, and said to her in Romaic, "Calm yourself, my dear
child, and take courage in remembering that there is a God who will
punish traitors."

"It is a frightful story, count," said Albert, terrified at the paleness
of Haidee's countenance, "and I reproach myself now for having been so
cruel and thoughtless in my request."

"Oh, it is nothing," said Monte Cristo. Then, patting the young girl on
the head, he continued, "Haidee is very courageous, and she sometimes
even finds consolation in the recital of her misfortunes."

"Because, my lord," said Haidee eagerly, "my miseries recall to me the
remembrance of your goodness."

Albert looked at her with curiosity, for she had not yet related what he
most desired to know,--how she had become the slave of the count. Haidee
saw at a glance the same expression pervading the countenances of her
two auditors; she exclaimed, 'When my mother recovered her senses we
were before the serasker. 'Kill,' said she, 'but spare the honor of the
widow of Ali.'--'It is not to me to whom you must address yourself,'
said Koorshid.

"'To whom, then?'--'To your new master.'

"'Who and where is he?'--'He is here.'

"And Koorshid pointed out on