ly conducted all the visitors about the bazaar,
dilating in the extravagant oriental fashion upon the extraordinary
merits of the captives he wished to turn into money. Many times he had
paused before me where I stood cowering in a corner, volubly expatiating
on my value and attractiveness, but hitherto not a single Turk had
evinced the slightest inclination to relieve him of me.

"At last two men made their appearance and eagerly glanced around the
mart. Both wore turbans and full Turkish dress. Their faces were
shrouded with heavy beards, and there was an indescribable something
about them that stamped them as personages of exalted rank.

"They paused a short distance from me, and one of them said, addressing
Ali Pasha:

"'What is the name of yonder slave?'

"'Zuleika,' answered the obsequious and unscrupulous slave-dealer.

"'From what country is she and how did you obtain possession of her?'
asked the second visitor, who had not yet spoken. His voice was subdued
and evidently disguised; nevertheless there was something familiar in
its tone that strangely stirred me and filled me with hope.

"Ali Pasha replied to his inquiry with unblushing effrontery:

"'The slave is from Circassia, and was sold to me by her parents.'

"I know not how I obtained the courage to do so, but instantly I cried
out:

"'All that vile wretch has said is false! My name is Haydee, and I am
the wife of the Count of Monte-Cristo! Ali Pasha forcibly abducted me
from my husband's yacht that now lies in the harbor of Constantinople!'

"'Ali Pasha,' said the first speaker, 'this is a grave accusation! It is
true that the illustrious Monte-Cristo's yacht now lies in the harbor of
Stamboul, and such an abduction as this slave has mentioned did,
indeed, take place.'

"The slave-dealer winced slightly, but, instantly recovering himself,
calmly answered:

"'I know nothing of Monte-Cristo, his yacht or his wife. As for this
lying slave, I will punish her on the spot!'

"With these words he advanced toward me and lifted his clenched fist to
strike. I shrank tremblingly against the wall, but the next instant a
blow that would have felled an ox had hurled Ali Pasha to the stone
floor of the bazaar. It was delivered by the man whose voice had seemed
familiar to me, and, tearing off his beard, my husband, the undaunted
Count of Monte-Cristo himself, caught me in his arms and folded me to
his breast!

"Ali Pasha had now arisen to his feet. Liv