At the appointed time the Count of Monte-Cristo and Zuleika, accompanied by Ali, Peppino and Beppo, the two Italians attired in the traveling garb of French servants, left Paris for Marseilles. On their arrival at the latter city they proceeded immediately to the harbor, where Monte-Cristo's yacht awaited them in obedience to instructions telegraphed by the Count to the Captain of the craft, whose name was Vincenzo, and who was a son of Jacopo, the former smuggler, long in command of the ill-fated Alcyon, lost in the frightful storm and volcanic disturbance in the Mediterranean some years before. The present yacht was a new and superb vessel, as fleet and as beautiful as a bird. It was fitted up in the most complete manner; the cabin, superbly carpeted and furnished, was hung with elaborately wrought, costly tapestry, while here and there on the walls were curiously arrayed clusters of ancient barbaric weapons gathered from the site of old Carthage, the ruins of historic Babylon and even from the crumbling tombs of those redoubtable warriors who far back in the dim ages of antiquity had defended distant Cathay against the incursions of the fierce Tartar hordes. The yacht was named the Haydée in honor of the loving and devoted Greek slave, the mother of Espérance and Zuleika, who had filled such an important part in Monte-Cristo's life and had left behind her such tender memories.

As soon as the Count and his little party were safely on board the craft it set sail, gliding swiftly out upon the wide, sparkling expanse of water. Monte-Cristo and Zuleika stood upon the deck, conversing pleasantly and enjoying the ever-changing panorama presented to their gaze. The Haydée glided swiftly past the Île Ratonneau, conspicuous by reason of its towering lighthouse; then came the Pointe des Catalans, with its beach where Mercédès had once dwelt and where the unfortunate sailor Dantès had seen the light in her chamber window on that memorable night when he was being conducted to captivity. At length a black and frowning rock rose before them, surmounted by a gloomy fortress. As he caught sight of this dismal crag, Monte-Cristo knitted his brows and through his clenched teeth muttered an imprecation upon the tyranny of man.

"What is it that so moves you, father?" asked Zuleika, in a soft voice, gazing solicitously into his face.

"Look yonder, my child," replied the Count, with strong emotion; "the fortress upon that rock is the accursed Château d' If!"

Zuleika glanced at the fortress with a feeling of terror and dread. She knew the story of her father's long imprisonment and keen suffering in the dark dungeon of that forbidding pile, of his meetings with the Abbé Faria there and of his subsequent daring escape; but she knew nothing of what had passed between the Abbé and the sailor Dantès relative to the famous treasure concealed by Cardinal Spada within the grottoes of the Isle of Monte-Cristo, the treasure that diverted from the grasp of Pope Alexander VI. had made the Count so enormously rich. On this topic her father had never yet seen fit to enlighten her. The sight of the Château d' If made her shudder and turn pale, though at the same time it fascinated and enchained her. She clung closely to Monte-Cristo and said, tremulously: "Oh! what a frightful place it is! My very heart is chilled by its dismal aspect!"




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