lations with him?"

"Ah! that I cannot say. Your father has not been in Paris for some
years, and the Count has been here very little of late. But I can easily
find out for you."

"No, no--pray make no inquiries!" said Carmen, eagerly. "But the
terrace--where is it?"

"Here it is!" answered Goutran, raising a curtain.

The apartment that Goutran occupied was on the second floor, and the
terrace, of which he had spoken so slightingly, was draped with
clematis, and commanded a beautiful view down the avenue to the Place de
la Concorde.

The evening was calm and the air delicious. Carmen certainly deserved to
be called imprudent. She looked very lovely in the moonlight, and
Goutran was young and passionately in love. Carmen still leaned on his
arm. She murmured softly:

"How delicious it is here!"

He slipped his arm around her waist, and as she threw back her head to
look up at the moon, Goutran leaned forward and kissed her. Let her who
is without sin throw the first stone!

At this precise moment a clear voice came from the garden below, and
this voice said:

"Do not be too anxious to learn my name, Monsieur de Laisangy."

The two young people separated hastily. Carmen ran to the balustrade and
looked over, but she could see nothing, and heard now only two angry
voices disputing. Carmen went to the window, and opening it, said
coldly:

"We will go in, if you please!"

As they entered the gallery, the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo hurried up to
Goutran.

"Come with me," he said, "I must see you at once!"

CHAPTER XLVIII.

A THUNDER CLAP.

Goutran was startled by the tone in which Esperance spoke. He hastened
with Carmen to the music-room, and then returned to the Vicomte.

"I have been very negligent," the artist said, penitently, "and I have a
thousand apologies to make. And now, what may I do for you?"

The Vicomte was very pale. He hesitated.

"My friend," he said at last, "you have entire confidence in me, have
you not?"

"Most certainly. You have won both my esteem and affection."

"And you think me incapable of falsehood?"

"What a question!"

"Then listen to me. I was standing in this spot just now--I had been
listening to that girl's divine voice. You passed me and spoke to me,
but I hardly knew what you said, when suddenly from behind that hanging
came these words, distinctly pronounced:

"Take care, son of Monte-Cristo, take care! You are walking into a snare
laid for you. Ta