"What do you ask of me?" said he,--"your son's life? Well, he shall
live!" Mercedes uttered a cry which made the tears start from Monte
Cristo's eyes; but these tears disappeared almost instantaneously, for,
doubtless, God had sent some angel to collect them--far more precious
were they in his eyes than the richest pearls of Guzerat and Ophir.

"Oh," said she, seizing the count's hand and raising it to her lips;
"oh, thank you, thank you, Edmond! Now you are exactly what I dreamt you
were,--the man I always loved. Oh, now I may say so!"

"So much the better," replied Monte Cristo; "as that poor Edmond will
not have long to be loved by you. Death is about to return to the tomb,
the phantom to retire in darkness."

"What do you say, Edmond?"

"I say, since you command me, Mercedes, I must die."

"Die? and why so? Who talks of dying? Whence have you these ideas of
death?"

"You do not suppose that, publicly outraged in the face of a
whole theatre, in the presence of your friends and those of your
son--challenged by a boy who will glory in my forgiveness as if it were
a victory--you do not suppose that I can for one moment wish to live.
What I most loved after you, Mercedes, was myself, my dignity, and that
strength which rendered me superior to other men; that strength was my
life. With one word you have crushed it, and I die."

"But the duel will not take place, Edmond, since you forgive?"

"It will take place," said Monte Cristo, in a most solemn tone; "but
instead of your son's blood to stain the ground, mine will flow."
Mercedes shrieked, and sprang towards Monte Cristo, but, suddenly
stopping, "Edmond," said she, "there is a God above us, since you live
and since I have seen you again; I trust to him from my heart. While
waiting his assistance I trust to your word; you have said that my son
should live, have you not?"

"Yes, madame, he shall live," said Monte Cristo, surprised that without
more emotion Mercedes had accepted the heroic sacrifice he made for her.
Mercedes extended her hand to the count.

"Edmond," said she, and her eyes were wet with tears while looking at
him to whom she spoke, "how noble it is of you, how great the action you
have just performed, how sublime to have taken pity on a poor woman who
appealed to you with every chance against her, Alas, I am grown old with
grief more than with years, and cannot now remind my Edmond by a smile,
or by a look, of that Mercedes whom he once spent so