man knows either his age or his
history. I met him long ago in Athens, where I had the good fortune to
rescue him from the clutches of a howling mob of ruffians who had seized
upon him and were about to slay him as a sorcerer because he had taken
into his hut and cured of the plague a wretched Greek who had been cast
into the streets to die! For my sake he will save Giovanni!"

"But," said Maximilian, as a sudden thought occurred to him and filled
him with dismay, "Dr. Absalom can practise outside of the Ghetto only by
stealth and at the risk of being thrown into prison! He will not be
allowed to visit the Viscount Massetti!"

The Count of Monte-Cristo drew himself up proudly and his peculiar smile
passed over his countenance.

"I will take care of that!" he said, impressively.

Zuleika was left with Mme. Morrel, and, accompanied by Maximilian,
Monte-Cristo at once started for the Ghetto.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE WONDROUS PHYSICIAN.

A brisk walk of half an hour brought the Count and his companion to one
of the two gates in the wall of the Ghetto or Jews' quarter of Rome.
Monte-Cristo knocked at a wicket and a policeman immediately appeared.
He was a young man and wore a military dress. His coat was buttoned to
the throat, a yellow cord and tassel gracefully looped over the breast.
His hands were encased in white cotton gloves, a helmet adorned with
brass was upon his head and at his side hung a sword, while on the
collar of his coat the number of his regiment shone in gilt figures. The
man's bearing was soldierly and he had evidently seen service in the
field. The Count addressed him in Italian, informing him that he and M.
Morrel desired to visit the Ghetto, at the same time exhibiting their
passports. After examining the papers and seeing that they were in
proper form the policeman opened the gate and the visitors entered the
crowded and filthy precincts of the Jews' quarter.

"Mon Dieu! what vile odors!" exclaimed M. Morrel, placing his
handkerchief saturated with cologne to his nose, as they hurried through
the narrow, garbage-encumbered lanes.

"The atmosphere is not like that of a perfumer's shop!" replied the
Count, laughing. "But it seems to suit the children of Israel, for they
thrive and multiply in it as the sparrows in the pure air and green
fields of England!"

"I pity them!" said Maximilian.

"Tastes differ," returned Monte-Cristo, philosophically. "I will wager
that in this whole quarter