as
M. Dantes himself; he grasped Esperance's free hand and, shaking it with
the utmost cordiality, exclaimed:

"Your son, M. Dantes! Let me congratulate you! Why he is a perfect
hero!"

"I have but followed my father's teachings and done what he would have
done had he been my age and unable to serve the great cause of human
freedom in a more effective way!"

M. Dantes' eyes sparkled with joy and a faint shade of color appeared
upon his pale cheeks.

"What is your name, young patriot?" asked M. Lamartine, his excitement
and enthusiasm continuing to hold possession of him.

"Esperance," was the reply.

"Esperance--hope--the name is both appropriate and auspicious; with such
heroic young men as you fighting for our cause there is, indeed, hope,
and of the brightest and best kind!" cried Lamartine.

"Nay, nay," said M. Dantes, "do not flatter the boy; he has but done his
duty."

"Believe me, I do not flatter him," returned Lamartine; "I have simply
told him the truth; in time he will rival the devotion and achievements
of his noble father!"

"Enough, enough," said the Deputy, modestly; "we deserve only the credit
of executing God's will--we are merely instruments in His omnipotent
hand!" he added, impressively.

"And such instruments are exactly what we need in the present crisis.
God grant us plenty of them!"

The next morning Zuleika encountered Esperance on the stairway; she led
him into the salon, and, when they were seated, said:

"My brother, I have a question to ask of you."

A shadow crossed the young man's brow, and he quickly asked:

"Is it about the Viscount Massetti?"

"Yes."

"Then I must refuse to answer!"

"But the matter concerns my happiness, nay, my very life itself; think
of that before you finally refuse to answer my question!"

Esperance hastily and excitedly arose from his chair and stood in front
of his sister.

"Zuleika," said he, in an agitated tone, "beware of that man--beware of
Giovanni Massetti!"

"Beware of Giovanni, Esperance--and why?"

The young man began to pace the salon with short and nervous steps; his
hands twitched convulsively, and his face had suddenly assumed the
whiteness of chalk.

"Zuleika, Zuleika," he murmured, "I cannot, I cannot tell you why! It
would crash you to the very earth and make you blush with shame that you
had ever listened to the seductive tones of that doubly false Italian's
voice!"

"But, Esperance," said Zuleika, "papa certainl