was seeking them."

"Why, when all was arranged?"

"Listen, count; the affair is serious and unavoidable."

"Did you doubt it!"

"No; the offence was public, and every one is already talking of it."

"Well?"

"Well, I hoped to get an exchange of arms,--to substitute the sword for
the pistol; the pistol is blind."

"Have you succeeded?" asked Monte Cristo quickly, with an imperceptible
gleam of hope.

"No; for your skill with the sword is so well known."

"Ah?--who has betrayed me?"

"The skilful swordsman whom you have conquered."

"And you failed?"

"They positively refused."

"Morrel," said the count, "have you ever seen me fire a pistol?"

"Never."

"Well, we have time; look." Monte Cristo took the pistols he held in his
hand when Mercedes entered, and fixing an ace of clubs against the iron
plate, with four shots he successively shot off the four sides of the
club. At each shot Morrel turned pale. He examined the bullets with
which Monte Cristo performed this dexterous feat, and saw that they were
no larger than buckshot. "It is astonishing," said he. "Look, Emmanuel."
Then turning towards Monte Cristo, "Count," said he, "in the name of
all that is dear to you, I entreat you not to kill Albert!--the unhappy
youth has a mother."

"You are right," said Monte Cristo; "and I have none." These words
were uttered in a tone which made Morrel shudder. "You are the offended
party, count."

"Doubtless; what does that imply?"

"That you will fire first."

"I fire first?"

"Oh, I obtained, or rather claimed that; we had conceded enough for them
to yield us that."

"And at what distance?"

"Twenty paces." A smile of terrible import passed over the count's lips.
"Morrel," said he, "do not forget what you have just seen."

"The only chance for Albert's safety, then, will arise from your
emotion."

"I suffer from emotion?" said Monte Cristo.

"Or from your generosity, my friend; to so good a marksman as you are, I
may say what would appear absurd to another."

"What is that?"

"Break his arm--wound him--but do not kill him."

"I will tell you, Morrel," said the count, "that I do not need
entreating to spare the life of M. de Morcerf; he shall be so well
spared, that he will return quietly with his two friends, while I"--

"And you?"

"That will be another thing; I shall be brought home."

"No, no," cried Maximilian, quite unable to restrain his feelings.

"As I told you, my dear Morrel,