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THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO


"We have reached it!" repeated the traveler, in an accent of indescribable sadness.

Then he added in a low tone, "Yes; that is the haven."

And then he again plunged into a train of thought, the character of which was better revealed by a sad smile than it would have been by tears. A few minutes afterward a flash of light, which was extinguished instantly, was seen on the land, and the sound of fire-arms reached the yacht.

"Your excellency," said the captain, "that was the land signal; will you answer it yourself?"

"What signal!"

The captain pointed toward the island, up the side of which ascended a volume of smoke, increasing as it rose.

"Ah, yes," he said, as if awaking from a dream. "Give it to me."

The captain gave him a loaded carbine; the traveler slowly raised it, and fired in the air. Ten minutes afterward, the sails were brailed, and they cast anchor about one hundred paces from a little harbor. The boat was already in the sea, loaded with four rowers and a pilot. The traveler descended and instead of sitting down at the stem of the boat, which had been decorated with a blue carpet for his accommodation, stood up with his arms crossed. The rowers waited, their oars half lifted out of the water, like birds drying their wings.

"Proceed," said the traveler. The eight oars fell into the sea simultaneously without splashing a drop of water, and the boat, yielding to the impulsion, glided forward. In an instant they found themselves in a little creek, formed by a natural indentation; the boat touched a bottom of fine sand.

"Will your excellency be so good as to mount the shoulders of two of our men; they will carry you ashore?" The young man answered this invitation with a gesture of indifference, and stepping out of the boat, the sea immediately rose to his waist.

"Ah! your excellency," murmured the pilot, "you should not have done so; our master will scold us for it."

The young man continued to advance, following the sailors, who chose a firm footing. After about thirty paces they landed; the young man stamped on the ground to shake off the wet, and looked round for some one to show him his road, for it was quite dark. Just as he turned, a hand rested on his shoulder, and a voice, which made him shudder, exclaimed:

"Good-evening, Maximilian! you are punctual, thank you!"

"Ah! is it you, count?" said the young man, in an almost joyful accent, pressing Moute-Cristo's hand with both his own.