sage pressed against the
floor, held up his hand, presenting to the Count the identical letter of
which he had been the bearer.

"Why, how is this, Ali?" asked the Count, frowning. "My letter sent back
without an answer. The seal has been broken, too. It must have been
read."

The mute slowly arose and began an eloquent pantomime which his master
readily translated into words: "You went to the Hotel de France and sent
up the letter. In ten minutes it was returned to you by the lady's
valet, who said all the answer the Count of Monte-Cristo deserved from
his mistress was written on the back."

Ali nodded his head in confirmation of his master's translation, looking
as if he expected to be severely reprimanded for being the bearer of
such an indignity. The Count, however, merely smiled. Curiosity rather
than anger predominated in him. He turned the letter over and read,
scrawled in pencil in a woman's hand, the following brief and
enigmatical but insulting communication:

"Any Frenchman save the ignominious M. Dantes, the so-called Count of
Monte-Cristo, would be welcome to Mlle. d' Armilly. That person she does
not wish to see and will not."

The Count was perplexed and also amused. The fervor of the prima donna
made him smile. He certainly did not know her, certainly had never seen
her. Why then was she so bitter against him? He could make nothing out
of it. Was it possible her name was really as familiar to him as it had
seemed? The irate artiste had surely heard of the Count of Monte-Cristo
and, therefore, could not be mistaken in regard to his identity, but in
what way could he have injured her or incurred her anger? The more he
thought of the matter the more perplexed he grew. As he was debating
within himself what action he ought to take, there was a knock at the
door and a domestic entered, handing him a card upon which was
inscribed: "Captain Joliette."

"Ha!" cried Monte-Cristo, "he comes in time. He will aid me in solving
this mystery."

He motioned Ali from the study, and directed the valet who had brought
the card to show the visitor up at once. In another instant Captain
Joliette entered the room. The Count sprang forward to greet him.

"Welcome, Captain," said he. "I have not seen you since our stirring
adventures in Algeria.[4] I hope you are well and happy. By the way,
what are you doing, in Rome? I was not aware you were here."

"I am here simply by chance," answered the young soldier, with a