lightly from the carriage, and offered his hand to assist Emmanuel and Maximilian. The latter retained the count’s hand between his.
“I like,” said he, “to feel a hand like this, when its owner relies on the goodness of his cause.”
“It seems to me,” said Emmanuel, “that I see two young men down there, who are evidently, waiting.”
Monte Cristo drew Morrel a step or two behind his brother-in-law.
“Maximilian,” said he, “are your affections disengaged?”
Morrel looked at Monte Cristo with astonishment.
“I do not seek your confidence, my dear friend. I only ask you a simple question; answer it;—that is all I require.”
“I love a young girl, count.”
“Do you love her much?”
“More than my life.”
“Another hope defeated!” said the count. Then, with a sigh, “Poor Haydée!” murmured he.
“To tell the truth, count, if I knew less of you, I should think that you were less brave than you are.”
“Because I sigh when thinking of someone I am leaving? Come, Morrel, it is not like a soldier to be so bad a judge of courage. Do I regret life? What is it to me, who have passed twenty years between life and death? Moreover, do not alarm yourself, Morrel; this weakness, if it is such, is betrayed to you alone. I know the world is a drawing-room, from which we must retire politely and honestly; that is, with a bow, and our debts