no idea they would venture here. Now, however, I
thought I had better put you on your guard."

"I am much indebted to you, Alexis," said the Count; then, slipping a
purse of money into his hand, he added: "Take that and provide yourself
with a new boat."

Alexis touched his cap, bowed and was about to withdraw when
Monte-Cristo said to him, assuming a careless tone:

"By the way, my good fellow, have you ever chanced to meet any of the
bandits you mentioned?"

"Often, Excellency," replied Alexis.

"What kind of men are they?"

"Bold, bad wretches, whose hands have been more than once stained with
innocent blood."

"What is their strength?"

"They number about fifty."

"Do any women dwell among them?"

"Yes, Excellency, their wives and sweethearts."

"Who is the leader of the band?"

"A strange, morose man, who has not been long in their midst."

"Is he a Greek?"

"No, Excellency, he is a foreigner."

"A Frenchman?"

"Quite likely, though I am not sure."

"What is his name?"

"He calls himself Demetrius."

"Did he ever question you about me?"

"Yes, Excellency."

"And what did you reply?"

"I told him you were the Count of Monte-Cristo."

"Ah! What did he say then?"

"He said he had heard of you before."

"That will do, Alexis; I have all the information I require."

The fisherman again touched his cap, and, making a low bow, took his
departure.

Under ordinary circumstances Monte-Cristo would not have been disturbed
by the presence of bandits so near the Island of Salmis, but it became
an altogether different thing when those bandits were led by Benedetto.

A month passed, but in it nothing occurred calculated to break the
tranquillity of the Count and his family. The bandits had not reappeared
and Benedetto had given no sign of life. The faithful Ali no longer
deemed it necessary to maintain his precautions against surprise, and
the strict watch that had been kept up day and night ever since the
conflict in the almond grove was abandoned. Haydee, Zuleika and
Esperance resumed their usual mode of life, having apparently dismissed
the robbers from their minds, while even Monte-Cristo seemed free from
all uneasiness.

One night, while the Count was writing at a late hour in the library, he
yielded to fatigue and fell asleep over his papers. His slumber was
troubled with a strange and vivid dream.

A man in the picturesque garb of a Greek peasant, and wearing a mask on
his face,