oward her as if to seize her in
his arms; then, suddenly checking himself, he asked, with a convulsive
gasp:

"And that man--that one?"

"Was separated from me forever through the vile machinations of that
mysterious and cold-blooded fiend, the Count of Monte-Cristo!"

"The Count of Monte-Cristo?" exclaimed the young man, lost in amazement.

"Yes, the Count of Monte-Cristo, who afterwards disappeared from Paris
and has not since been heard of."

"You mistake; the Count of Monte-Cristo is in Paris now; he calls
himself Edmond Dantes and is the celebrated Deputy from Marseilles over
whom everybody has gone wild for some time past."

Mlle. d'Armilly's eyes flashed with fury.

"Then I will have my revenge upon him at last!" she cried. "I will amply
repay him for introducing the so-called Prince Cavalcanti into my
father's house and thus breaking off the match between Albert and
myself."

"Albert?"

"Yes; Albert de Morcerf."

"Now, Eugenie Danglars, I know you and it is useless for you to attempt
the denial of your identity longer!"

The young woman leaped up from the sofa, with terror pictured upon her
visage, and, seizing Captain Joliette by the arm with a powerful grasp,
cried out:

"And how, pray, do you know I am Eugenie Danglars?"

"You unwittingly betrayed yourself by revealing the names of
Monte-Cristo and Cavalcanti. Besides, Eugenie, look at me well--I am
Albert de Morcerf!"

With a wild cry the retired prima donna sank back upon the sofa.

"You Albert de Morcerf!" she exclaimed. "I cannot believe it!"

"But my mother, the former Countess de Morcerf, who is now the wife of
Edmond Dantes, will vouch for my identity."

The young woman passed her hand across her forehead as if dazed.

"If you are Albert de Morcerf, you must despise me after what has taken
place this evening," she said, bitterly.

"Despise you? No, I pity and forgive you."

"Albert," said she, softly, "come here and sit beside me on this sofa; I
have something to say to you."

The soldier obeyed; when he was seated, he said:

"Eugenie, why did you tell me I could be your friend?"

"Simply because I have long suspected your secret and wished to
ascertain the real nature of your feelings toward me. You not only
resisted a terrible temptation, the most terrible temptation to which a
young, ardent and passion-smitten man can be exposed, but by your honor
conclusively established the purity and sincerity of your love. Oh!
Albe