e from
beginning to end. The brigands had carried me off, and conducted me to a
gloomy spot, called the Catacombs of Saint Sebastian."

"I know it," said Chateau-Renaud; "I narrowly escaped catching a fever
there."

"And I did more than that," replied Morcerf, "for I caught one. I
was informed that I was prisoner until I paid the sum of 4,000 Roman
crowns--about 24,000 francs. Unfortunately, I had not above 1,500. I was
at the end of my journey and of my credit. I wrote to Franz--and were he
here he would confirm every word--I wrote then to Franz that if he did
not come with the four thousand crowns before six, at ten minutes past
I should have gone to join the blessed saints and glorious martyrs in
whose company I had the honor of being; and Signor Luigi Vampa, such was
the name of the chief of these bandits, would have scrupulously kept his
word."

"But Franz did come with the four thousand crowns," said Chateau-Renaud.
"A man whose name is Franz d'Epinay or Albert de Morcerf has not much
difficulty in procuring them."

"No, he arrived accompanied simply by the guest I am going to present to
you."

"Ah, this gentleman is a Hercules killing Cacus, a Perseus freeing
Andromeda."

"No, he is a man about my own size."

"Armed to the teeth?"

"He had not even a knitting-needle."

"But he paid your ransom?"

"He said two words to the chief and I was free."

"And they apologized to him for having carried you off?" said Beauchamp.

"Just so."

"Why, he is a second Ariosto."

"No, his name is the Count of Monte Cristo."

"There is no Count of Monte Cristo" said Debray.

"I do not think so," added Chateau-Renaud, with the air of a man who
knows the whole of the European nobility perfectly.

"Does any one know anything of a Count of Monte Cristo?"

"He comes possibly from the Holy Land, and one of his ancestors
possessed Calvary, as the Mortemarts did the Dead Sea."

"I think I can assist your researches," said Maximilian. "Monte Cristo
is a little island I have often heard spoken of by the old sailors my
father employed--a grain of sand in the centre of the Mediterranean, an
atom in the infinite."

"Precisely!" cried Albert. "Well, he of whom I speak is the lord and
master of this grain of sand, of this atom; he has purchased the title
of count somewhere in Tuscany."

"He is rich, then?"

"I believe so."

"But that ought to be visible."

"That is what deceives you, Debray."

"I do not understa