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THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO

beloved sister Haydée, who, ever since our departure from France, has caused me to wait patiently for the happy day, which to-day shines for me, while talking to me of you."

"You then love Haydée?" asked Monte-Cristo, with an emotion he in vain endeavored to dissimulate.

"Oh, yes! with all my soul."

"Well, then! listen, Valentine," said the count; "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Of me! Oh, am I happy enough for that?"

"Yes; you have called Haydée your sister; let her become so indeed, Valentine; render her all the gratitude you fancy you owe me. Do you and Morrel protect her, for" (the count's voice was thick with emotion) "henceforth she will be alone in the world."

"Alone iu the world!" repeated a voice behind the count, "and why?"

Monte-Cristo turned round. Haydée was standing, pale, motionless, looking at the count with an expression of fearful amazement.

"Because to-morrow, Haydée, you will be free; you will then assume your proper position in society, for I will not allow my destiny to overshadow yours. Daughter of a prince! I restore to you the riches and name of your father."

Haydée became pale, and lifting her transparent hands to heaven, exclaimed, in a voice hoarse with tears:—

"Then you leave me, my lord?"

"Haydée, Haydée! you are young and beautiful; forget even my name, and be happy!"

"It is well," said Haydée; "your order shall be executed, my lord; I will forget even your name, and be happy." And she stepped back to retire.

"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Valentine, who was supporting the head of Morrel on her shoulder, "do you not see how pale she is? Do you not see how she suffers?"

Haydée answered with a heartrending expression.

"Why should he understand this, my sister? He is my master, and I am his slave; he has the right to notice nothing."

The count shuddered at the tones of a voice which penetrated the inmost recesses of his heart; his eyes met those of the young girl, and he could not bear their brilliancy.

"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Monte-Cristo, "can my suspicions be correct? Haydée, would it please you not to leave me?"

"I am young," gently replied Haydée; "I love the life you have made so sweet to me, and should regret to die."

"You mean, then, that if I leave you, Haydée———"