nce of life and death in his hands. Now, in
spite of the nobility of his countenance, the command of which, like a
finished actor, he had carefully studied before the glass, it was by
no means easy for him to assume an air of judicial severity. Except the
recollection of the line of politics his father had adopted, and which
might interfere, unless he acted with the greatest prudence, with his
own career, Gerard de Villefort was as happy as a man could be. Already
rich, he held a high official situation, though only twenty-seven.
He was about to marry a young and charming woman, whom he loved, not
passionately, but reasonably, as became a deputy attorney of the
king; and besides her personal attractions, which were very great,
Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran's family possessed considerable political
influence, which they would, of course, exert in his favor. The dowry
of his wife amounted to fifty thousand crowns, and he had, besides,
the prospect of seeing her fortune increased to half a million at her
father's death. These considerations naturally gave Villefort a feeling
of such complete felicity that his mind was fairly dazzled in its
contemplation.

At the door he met the commissary of police, who was waiting for him.
The sight of this officer recalled Villefort from the third heaven to
earth; he composed his face, as we have before described, and said, "I
have read the letter, sir, and you have acted rightly in arresting
this man; now inform me what you have discovered concerning him and the
conspiracy."

"We know nothing as yet of the conspiracy, monsieur; all the papers
found have been sealed up and placed on your desk. The prisoner himself
is named Edmond Dantes, mate on board the three-master the Pharaon,
trading in cotton with Alexandria and Smyrna, and belonging to Morrel &
Son, of Marseilles."

"Before he entered the merchant service, had he ever served in the
marines?"

"Oh, no, monsieur, he is very young."

"How old?"

"Nineteen or twenty at the most."

At this moment, and as Villefort had arrived at the corner of the
Rue des Conseils, a man, who seemed to have been waiting for him,
approached; it was M. Morrel.

"Ah, M. de Villefort," cried he, "I am delighted to see you. Some
of your people have committed the strangest mistake--they have just
arrested Edmond Dantes, mate of my vessel."

"I know it, monsieur," replied Villefort, "and I am now going to examine
him."

"Oh," said Morrel, carried