tiently.

"A sort of book, written upon strips of cloth."

"Go and fetch it, my good fellow; and if it be what I hope, you will do
well."

"I will run for it, sir;" and the guide went out. Then the count knelt
down by the side of the bed, which death had converted into an altar.
"Oh, second father," he exclaimed, "thou who hast given me liberty,
knowledge, riches; thou who, like beings of a superior order to
ourselves, couldst understand the science of good and evil; if in the
depths of the tomb there still remain something within us which can
respond to the voice of those who are left on earth; if after death the
soul ever revisit the places where we have lived and suffered,--then,
noble heart, sublime soul, then I conjure thee by the paternal love thou
didst bear me, by the filial obedience I vowed to thee, grant me some
sign, some revelation! Remove from me the remains of doubt, which, if
it change not to conviction, must become remorse!" The count bowed his
head, and clasped his hands together.

"Here, sir," said a voice behind him.

Monte Cristo shuddered, and arose. The concierge held out the strips of
cloth upon which the Abbe Faria had spread the riches of his mind. The
manuscript was the great work by the Abbe Faria upon the kingdoms of
Italy. The count seized it hastily, his eyes immediately fell upon the
epigraph, and he read, "'Thou shalt tear out the dragons' teeth, and
shall trample the lions under foot, saith the Lord.'"

"Ah," he exclaimed, "here is my answer. Thanks, father, thanks."
And feeling in his pocket, he took thence a small pocket-book, which
contained ten bank-notes, each of 1,000. francs.

"Here," he said, "take this pocket-book."

"Do you give it to me?"

"Yes; but only on condition that you will not open it till I am gone;"
and placing in his breast the treasure he had just found, which was more
valuable to him than the richest jewel, he rushed out of the corridor,
and reaching his boat, cried, "To Marseilles!" Then, as he departed, he
fixed his eyes upon the gloomy prison. "Woe," he cried, "to those who
confined me in that wretched prison; and woe to those who forgot that
I was there!" As he repassed the Catalans, the count turned around and
burying his head in his cloak murmured the name of a woman. The victory
was complete; twice he had overcome his doubts. The name he pronounced,
in a voice of tenderness, amounting almost to love, was that of Haidee.

On landing, the count t