him of his mistress, of the future of which he had
dreamed (for in his blindness he forgot he could only read the present),
and cast him into a dungeon."

"Ah," said Morrel, "one quits a dungeon in a week, a month, or a year."

"He remained there fourteen years, Morrel," said the count, placing his
hand on the young man's shoulder. Maximilian shuddered.

"Fourteen years!" he muttered--"Fourteen years!" repeated the count.
"During that time he had many moments of despair. He also, Morrel, like
you, considered himself the unhappiest of men."

"Well?" asked Morrel.

"Well, at the height of his despair God assisted him through human
means. At first, perhaps, he did not recognize the infinite mercy of the
Lord, but at last he took patience and waited. One day he miraculously
left the prison, transformed, rich, powerful. His first cry was for his
father; but that father was dead."

"My father, too, is dead," said Morrel.

"Yes; but your father died in your arms, happy, respected, rich, and
full of years; his father died poor, despairing, almost doubtful of
providence; and when his son sought his grave ten years afterwards, his
tomb had disappeared, and no one could say, 'There sleeps the father you
so well loved.'"

"Oh!" exclaimed Morrel.

"He was, then, a more unhappy son than you, Morrel, for he could not
even find his father's grave."

"But then he had the woman he loved still remaining?"

"You are deceived, Morrel, that woman"--

"She was dead?"

"Worse than that, she was faithless, and had married one of the
persecutors of her betrothed. You see, then, Morrel, that he was a more
unhappy lover than you."

"And has he found consolation?"

"He has at least found peace."

"And does he ever expect to be happy?"

"He hopes so, Maximilian." The young man's head fell on his breast.

"You have my promise," he said, after a minute's pause, extending his
hand to Monte Cristo. "Only remember"--

"On the 5th of October, Morrel, I shall expect you at the Island of
Monte Cristo. On the 4th a yacht will wait for you in the port of
Bastia, it will be called the Eurus. You will give your name to the
captain, who will bring you to me. It is understood--is it not?"

"But, count, do you remember that the 5th of October"--

"Child," replied the count, "not to know the value of a man's word! I
have told you twenty times that if you wish to die on that day, I will
assist you. Morrel, farewell!"

"Do you leave me?"