sired the former clown to remain
for the protection of the ladies, but Miss Elphys protested against
this.

"Take Bobichel with you," she said. "We can protect ourselves."

Bobichel, overjoyed, ran for the horses, and the little army instantly
mounted, riding away toward the desert at the top of their animals'
speed, with Monte-Cristo at their head.

Meanwhile Maldar and his Khouan followers were dashing along at a rapid
pace on the fleet Arab coursers with which they were provided. One of
the party bore Esperance before him on his saddle. The boy had not been
aroused from his lethargic sleep by the abduction and subsequent flight.
He slept peacefully and profoundly.

The fanatical Arabs maintained unbroken silence, and the sound of their
horses' hoofs was deadened by the sand.

Maldar rode a trifle in advance. Now that the excitement of the
abduction had worn off, he was as stoical as the rest, but occasionally,
as he thought of his triumph over Monte-Cristo and the vengeance he was
about to take upon his hated enemy, for he had decided to put Esperance
to a lingering and terrible death and send the lad's gory head to the
agonized father, a grim smile stole over his otherwise impassible
countenance, and a demoniac gleam shot from his eyes.

But suddenly a faint sound was heard in the far distance. It came from
the direction of Fanfar's farm. Maldar listened attentively; then he
said to the Khouans, whose quick ears had also detected the sound:

"Ride like the wind, sons of the Prophet! We are pursued! The Count of
Monte-Cristo and his unbelieving French hounds are on our track! But if
they would overtake us and recover the boy, they must have the cunning
of serpents and horses as fleet as the lightning's flash!"

CHAPTER II.

HAYDEE, THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO.

It was in Monte-Cristo's luxurious mansion in Marseilles, one bright
morning in April. Since the Count's departure for Algeria in search of
her son, Mercedes, faithful to her oath never to leave Haydee, had taken
up her residence there. The two women who had filled such important
places in the life of Monte-Cristo were sitting together in the large
drawing-room, the windows of which looked out upon the calm blue waters
of the Mediterranean. These windows were open and through them floated
the delightful perfume of the flowers from the garden beyond, mingled
with the saline odors of the sea. It was about ten o'clock and the sun,
high in the hea