ve,
even giving her a little note to Giovanni which stated that Valentine
and Maximilian were her dearest friends and had come to Rome expressly
to aid him in his troubles.

A week after the momentous interview in the pavilion M. and Mme. Morrel
set out for Italy, informing their friends in the mansion on the Rue du
Helder that they intended being absent some time, but refraining from
giving even the slightest hint of the object of their journey.

CHAPTER XV.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

One morning shortly after the departure of the Morrels for Rome, the
Count of Monte-Cristo was driving along the Champs-Elysees in his
elegant barouche drawn by a pair of spirited, blooded bays, when, near
the Rond-point, his progress was suddenly checked by a great, tumultuous
concourse of people. Leaning from his carriage, he asked a workman the
cause of the unwonted commotion and was informed that two Italians had
been arrested for theft and were being taken to the poste of the quarter
by a couple of gardiens de la paix. He thought nothing of the
circumstance and was calmly waiting for an opportunity to proceed when
the crowd about the barouche opened and the officers appeared with their
captives. The Count was not much interested, but, nevertheless, bestowed
a passing glance upon the malefactors, who were loudly protesting their
innocence in broken, almost unintelligible French, and offering a stout
resistance. They were roughly attired in blue blouses, wearing felt hats
that were pulled down and obscured their countenances. One of the men in
custody caught hold of a spoke of a wheel of Monte-Cristo's vehicle,
grasping it with such iron firmness that all the efforts of the
policeman in charge of him failed to shake off his clutch. The Count
ordered Ali, who was acting as coachman, to hand him the reins, dismount
and assist the gardien.

At the sound of his voice, the man who had grasped the spoke looked up
with a start and, without relaxing his hold, cried out in Italian:

"Say a word for me, your Excellency! The Count of Monte-Cristo should
have as much power over the myrmidons of the French law as over Luigi
Vampa and his band!"

This exclamation amazed and startled the Count, so strange and unlooked
for was it. He gazed penetratingly at the malefactor who had uttered it,
but his scrutiny was unrewarded by recognition.

"Who are you?" he asked, as soon as his amazement permitted him to
speak, also making use of the I