enedetto. His revenge has begun!

And in that empty room there is now no other sound than the ticking of
the clock.

CHAPTER LVII.

THEY MUST BE SAVED!

My readers have not forgotten the romantic episode that followed Jane's
suicide. How happened it that our old friends Fanfar and Bobichel were
near and able to save the life of Sanselme?

It is a very simple matter. Monte-Cristo had said to Fanfar, "I trust my
son to you. You love me, love him, also. Be to him what you have been to
me."

"Rely on me," Fanfar said, and Monte-Cristo went away, confiding in
himself, in everything, and still more in the strange fatality which had
always served him.

Fanfar kept his word. He watched everything that Esperance did. He had
been told, also, not to permit this surveillance to be suspected unless
some real danger made it necessary to disclose it.

The evening that Esperance went to Goutran's, Fanfar, accompanied by the
inseparable Bobichel, had seen the young man enter his friend's house,
he had seen him place Jane in the carriage, and finally had watched him
walk away with Goutran.

Could there be anything more reassuring? Fanfar thought not, and in a
state of perfect satisfaction they walked along the left shore of the
Seine, where Fanfar had a little house in the Rue Bellechasse.

They were talking earnestly, when they heard loud cries for aid. They
instantly plunged into the river and swam in the direction of the cries.

They were successful in their efforts, and saved the lives of both the
man and the woman. Sanselme, however, had a brain fever, and the woman,
Fanfar discovered, was insane. With her it was a passing delirium.
Fanfar was greatly puzzled to know what to do with her. Who was she?
Whence came she? There was nothing about her person which would
elucidate the mystery. It was possible that she had escaped from some
hospital, and Fanfar went to the Prefecture to make inquiries, but no
such disappearance was registered there.

Fanfar naturally felt that there must be some connection between these
two persons. Some frightful tragedy had been enacted. But he also felt
that absolute secrecy was due the two unfortunates, till at last it was
plain that there was no danger in revealing the adventure.

Days elapsed. Sanselme had terrible attacks of frenzy, and the woman,
when she was able to move, had risen from her bed and gone to the door
of her room, where she stood with terror and anguish imprinte