So saying, he bowed to the baroness and her daughter, exchanged a parting shake of the hand with Debray and the count, and left Madame Danglars’ box. Upon his return to Haydée he found her still very pale. As soon as she saw him she seized his hand; her own hands were moist and icy cold.

“Who was it you were talking with over there?” she asked.

“With the Count of Morcerf,” answered Monte Cristo. “He tells me he served your illustrious father, and that he owes his fortune to him.”

“Wretch!” exclaimed Haydée, her eyes flashing with rage; “he sold my father to the Turks, and the fortune he boasts of was the price of his treachery! Did not you know that, my dear lord?”

“Something of this I heard in Epirus,” said Monte Cristo; “but the particulars are still unknown to me. You shall relate them to me, my child. They are, no doubt, both curious and interesting.”