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EDMOND DANTÈS.

THE SEQUEL TO

ALEXANDER DUMAS'

CELEBRATED NOVEL OF

THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.

AN ENTIRE NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION.

BY

EDMUND FLAGG

* * * * *

"EDMOND DANTÈS," one of the greatest novels ever written, is the sequel
to Alexander Dumas' world-renowned chef-d'oeuvre, "The Count of
Monte-Cristo," taking up the fascinating narrative where the latter ends
and continuing it with marvellous power and absorbing interest. Every
word tells, and the number of unusually stirring incidents is legion,
while the plot is phenomenal in its strength, merit and ingeniousness.
The superb book deals with the exciting career of Edmond Dantès, who
first figures as the Count of Monte-Cristo, and then as the Deputy from
Marseilles takes an active part in the French Revolution of 1848.
Dramatic and graphic scenes abound, the reader finding startling
surprises at every turn. Love, philanthropy, politics and bloodshed form
the staple of the novel and are handled with extraordinary skill.
Besides the hero, Haydée, Mercédès, Valentine de Villefort, Eugénie
Danglars, Louise d'Armilly, Zuleika (Dantès' daughter), Benedetto,
Lucien Debray, Albert de Morcerf, Beauchamp, Château-Renaud, Ali,
Maximilian Morell, Giovanni Massetti, and Espérance (Dantès' son) figure
prominently, while Lamartine, Ledru Rollin, Louis Blanc and hosts of
revolutionary leaders are introduced. "EDMOND DANTÈS" will delight all
who read it.

* * * * *

NEW YORK:

WM. L. ALLISON COMPANY

PUBLISHERS.

* * * * *

COPYRIGHT: - 1884.

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS.

* * * * *

EDMOND DANTÈS.

AN ENTIRE NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION.

_"Edmond Dantès" the Sequel to Alexander Dumas' masterpiece, "The Count
of Monte-Cristo," is a novel that will delight, entertain and instruct
all who read it. It has wonderful fascination, absorbing interest and
rare merit, combined with remarkable power, amazing ingenuity and
thorough originality. In it the narrative is taken up immediately at the
close of "The Count of Monte-Cristo," and continued in a style of
exceeding cleverness. There is a terrible volcanic tempest on the
Mediterranean, in which Monte-Cristo and Haydée are wrecked, a vivid
picture of the French Revolution of 1848 is given and the love affair of
Zuleika and Giovanni Massetti is recounted in a manner unsurpassed for
novelty and excitement. The central figure is Edmond Dantès, and about
him are grouped Mercédès, Eugénie Danglars, Louise d'Armilly, Valentine
de Villefort, Espérance (the son of Monte-Cristo), Benedetto, Albert de
Morcerf, Maximilian Morrel, Ali and the other old friends of
"Monte-Cristo" readers, as well as numerous political leaders famous in
French history, namely, Lamartine, Ledru Rollin, Louis Blanc, Armand
Marrast, Flocon, Albert and others. Thiers, Guizot, Odillon Barrot,
General Lamoricière, General Bugeaud and other noted historical
characters are introduced, as well as Lucien Debray, Château-Renaud,
Beauchamp, etc. No one can afford to miss the opportunity to read
"Edmond Dantès," which is published only by T. B. Peterson & Brothers,
who also issue the only correct, complete and unabridged editions of the
other volumes of the great "Monte-Cristo" Series, namely, "The Count of
Monte-Cristo," "The Countess of Monte-Cristo," "The Wife of
Monte-Cristo, Haydée," and "The Son of Monte-Cristo, Espérance."_




CONTENTS.

Chapter. Page.
I. STORM AND SHIPWRECK, 21

II. THE ISLAND, 38

III. THE CONFLAGRATION, 55

IV. THE NEWS FROM ALGERIA, 70

V. EDMOND DANTÈS, DEPUTY FROM MARSEILLES, 82

VI. THE MYSTERY THICKENS, 91

VII. DANTÈS AND HIS DAUGHTER, 100

VIII. A VAST PRINTING HOUSE, 116

IX. ARMAND MARRAST, 126

X. THE COMMUNISTS, 134

XI. "WAIT AND HOPE," 168

XII. THE MYSTERIOUS PRIMA DONNA, 178

XIII. THE ITALIAN LOVER, 195

XIV. THE MINUTE VIALS, 202

XV. THE UNKNOWN NURSE, 208

XVI. A NOTABLE FÊTE, 215

XVII. THE REVOLUTION BEGINS, 244

XVIII. THE MIDNIGHT CONCLAVE, 251

XIX. THE SECOND DAY, 257

XX. ANOTHER MIDNIGHT CONCLAVE, 269

XXI. THE THIRD DAY, 278

XXII. THE LAST SESSION OF THE CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES, 294

XXIII. THE SACK OF THE TUILERIES, 303

XXIV. A MEMORABLE NIGHT, 306

XXV. THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT, 313

XXVI. DANTÈS AND MERCÉDÈS, 323

XXVII. ESPÉRANCE AND ZULEIKA, 334

XXVIII. CAPTAIN JOLIETTE'S LOVE, 343

XXIX. ZULEIKA GOES TO M. DANTÈS, 355

XXX. TWO INTERVIEWS, 362

XXXI. VAMPA'S ANSWER, 371




EDMOND DANTÈS.

THE SEQUEL TO

THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.




CHAPTER I.

STORM AND SHIPWRECK.


The Count of Monte-Cristo, with the beautiful Haydée clinging lovingly
about his neck, her head pillowed upon his shoulder, stood on the deck
of his superb yacht, the Alcyon, gazing at the fast-vanishing isle where
he had left Maximilian Morrel and Valentine de Villefort.

It was just daybreak, but by the faint glimmering light he could plainly
distinguish the figures of a man and a woman upon the distant beach.
They were walking arm in arm. Presently another figure, a man's,
approached them and seemed to deliver something.

"Look," said the Count to Haydée, "Jacopo has given Maximilian my
letter; he reads it to Valentine, and now they know all. Jacopo points
toward the yacht; they see us and are waving their handkerchiefs in
token of adieu."

Haydée raised her head and glanced in the direction of the Isle of
Monte-Cristo.

"I see them, my lord," she replied, in a joyous tone; "they are happy."

"Yes," said the Count, "they are happy, but they deserve their
happiness, and all is well."

"They owe their happiness to you, my lord," resumed Haydée, meekly.

"They owe it to God," answered Monte-Cristo, solemnly; "I was but His
humble instrument, and He has allowed me in this to make some slight
atonement for the wrong I committed in taking vengeance into my own
mortal hands."

Haydée was silent. She knew the sad history of Edmond Dantès, and was
aware of how remorselessly the Count of Monte-Cristo had avenged the
wrongs of the humble sailor of Marseilles. This she had learned from her
lord's own lips within the past few days. The strict seclusion in which
she had lived in Paris had necessarily excluded her from all personal
knowledge of the Count's subtle war upon his enemies; true, she had
emerged from her retirement to testify against Morcerf at his trial
before the House of Peers, but at that time she was ignorant of the fact
that by causing the foe of her family to be convicted of felony, treason
and outrage she had simply promoted Monte-Cristo's vengeance on Fernand,
the Catalan. But, though silent, the beautiful Greek girl, with her
thoroughly oriental ideas, could not realize that the man who stood
beside her, the being she almost worshiped, had been guilty of the least
wrong in avenging himself. Besides, she would never have admitted, even
in the most secret recesses of her own heart, that Monte-Cristo, who to
her mind symbolized all that was good, pure and heroic in human nature,
could have been wrong in anything he did.

Meanwhile the Count also had been silent, and a shade of the deepest
sadness had settled upon his pallid but intellectual visage. He gazed at
the Isle of Monte-Cristo until it became a mere dot in the distance;
then, putting his arm tenderly about his lovely companion's waist, he
drew her gently toward the cabin.

As they vanished down the companion-way, Bertuccio and the captain of
the Alcyon, followed by Ali, the Nubian, advanced to the prow of the
yacht.

"Captain," said Bertuccio, "can you tell me whither we are bound? I feel
an irresistible desire to know."

"Yes," answered the captain, "I can tell you. The Count ordered me to
make with all possible speed for the Island of Crete."

Bertuccio gave a sigh of relief.

"I feared we were bound for Italy," he said. "But," he added, after an
instant's thought, "why should we go to Rome? Luigi Vampa is amply able
to care for all the Count's interests there, if, indeed, any remain now
that the Baron Danglars has been attended to."

The captain, who was an old Italian smuggler, placed his finger
warningly upon his lips and glanced warily around when Luigi Vampa's
name was mentioned, but said nothing. Bertuccio took the hint and the
conversation was dropped.

Pressing onward under full sail, the magnificent yacht shot over the
blue waters of the Mediterranean with the speed of an eagle on the wing.
It sped past Corsica and Sardinia, and soon the arid, uninviting shores
of Tunis were visible; then it passed between Sicily and Malta, steering
directly toward the Island of Crete.

Up to this time the weather had been of the most delightful description.
Not a cloud had obscured the sky, and during the entire voyage the
unruffled surface of the Mediterranean had resembled that of some
peaceful lake. It was now the tenth of October, and just cool enough to
be pleasant; the spice-laden breezes from the coast of Africa reached
the yacht tempered by the moist atmosphere of the sea, furnishing an
additional element of enjoyment.

The Count of Monte-Cristo and Haydée, who seemed inseparable, came on
deck every morning at dawn, and each evening walked back and forth,
admiring the gorgeous sunset and watching the shades of night as they
gradually settled down upon the wide expanse of the waters.

It required no unusual penetration to see that they were lovers and that
their delight in each other's society was unalloyed. Haydée clung to the
Count, who, with his arm wound about her slender waist, looked down
into the liquid depths of her eyes with a smile of perfect content,
while his free hand ever and anon toyed with her night-black tresses.

One evening as they were walking thus - it was the evening of the
fifteenth of October, and Crete was distant but two days'
sail - Monte-Cristo tenderly took Haydée's hand in his and said to her in
a tone of ineffable softness:

"Haydée, do you remember what you said to me on the Isle of Monte-Cristo
just before we parted from Valentine and Maximilian?"

"Oh! yes, my lord," was the low reply. "I said I loved you as one loves
a father, brother, husband - I loved you as my life."

"And do you now regret those words?"

"Regret them! Oh! my lord, how could I do that?"

"I asked you," said the Count, slowly, "because we are nearing our
destination. In two days we shall land upon the shore of Crete, and,
once there, it is my intention to make you my wife, provided your
feelings toward me are still unchanged. Marriage, my child, is the most
important step in life, and I do not wish you to take that step without
fully understanding the promptings of your own dear heart. Only misery
can follow the union of two souls not in perfect accord, not entirely
devoted the one to the other. I am much older than you, Haydée, and my
sufferings have aged me still more than years. I am a sad and weary
man. You, on the contrary, stand just upon the threshold of existence;
the world and its pleasures are all before you. Think, my child, think
deeply before you pronounce the irrevocable vow."

Haydée threw herself passionately upon Monte-Cristo's breast.

"My lord," she cried, in accents broken by extreme agitation and
emotion, "am I not your slave?"

"No, Haydée," answered the Count, his bosom heaving and his eyes
lighting up with a strange flash, "you are free, your fate rests in your
own hands."

"Then," said the young girl, ardently, "I will decide it this very
instant. I accept my freedom that I may voluntarily offer myself to you,
my love, my husband. You have suffered. Granted. So have I. Your
sufferings have aged you; mine have transformed a child into a woman - a
woman who knows the promptings of her heart, who knows that it beats for
you, and you alone in all the world. My lord, I resign myself to you. Do
you accept the gift?"

As Haydée concluded, her beautiful eyes were suffused with tears and her
whole frame quivered with intense excitement.

Monte-Cristo bent down and kissed her upon the forehead.

"Haydée, my own Haydée," he said, with a slight tremor in his manly
voice, "I accept the gift. Be my wife, the wife of Monte-Cristo, and no
effort of mine shall be wanting to assure your happiness."

At that moment there was a sinister flash in the heavens, that were as
yet without a cloud. The livid light shot downward to the water and
seemingly plunged to the depths of the Mediterranean.

The Count gave a start and drew his beloved Haydée closer to him; the
frightened girl trembled from head to foot and clung to him for
protection.

"Oh! my lord, my lord," she murmured, "does Heaven disapprove of our
plighted troth?"

"Calm yourself, Haydée," answered Monte-Cristo. "The lightning is God's
seal, and He has set it upon our betrothal."

The flash was now repeated and was succeeded by several others of
increased intensity, but as yet no thunder rolled and there was not the
slightest indication of an approaching storm.

Monte-Cristo took Haydée's hand and led her to the side of the yacht.
Not a single wave wrinkled the surface of the sea for miles and miles;
the water seemed asleep, while down upon it the moon poured a flood of
silvery radiance. The stars, too, were beaming brightly. Still, however,
the intense lightning shot athwart the placid sky. It had become almost
incessant. Monte-Cristo could not account for the bewildering
phenomenon. He summoned the captain of the Alcyon and said to him:

"Giacomo, you have sailed the Mediterranean all your life, have you
not?"

"All my life, Excellency," replied he, touching his cap.

"Have you ever before seen lightning such as this on a calm night?"

"Never, Excellency."

"It certainly cannot be heat-lightning."

"I think not, Excellency. Heat-lightning has a quicker flash and is much
less intense."

"What do you suppose it portends?"

"I can form no idea, Excellency."

"Oh! my lord," said Haydée, "a terrible storm is coming, I am sure; I
feel a premonition Of approaching danger. I pray you, guard against it."

"Nonsense, my child," returned Monte-Cristo, with a laugh that, in spite
of all his efforts at self-control, betrayed nervous agitation and an
undefinable dread. "The sky is clear, the moon is shining brilliantly
and the sea is altogether tranquil; if a storm were coming it would not
be so. Banish your fears and reassure yourself; the lightning is but a
freak of nature."

The captain, too, was disturbed, though he could give himself no
satisfactory reason for his uneasiness.

Ali, with the characteristic superstition of the Nubian race, had
prostrated himself upon the deck, and was making signs the Moslems of
his country use to drive away malignant spirits.

The night, however, passed without accident, though the singular
lightning continued for several hours.

Next morning the sun rose, encircled by a ruddy band, fringed on the
outer rim with a faint yellow, while its beams had a sullen glare
instead of their normal brilliancy. The lightning of the previous night
was absent, but soon another and not less disquieting phenomenon
manifested itself; as far as the eye could reach the sea seemed boiling,
and, at intervals, a puff, as if of vapor, would filter through the
waves, rising and disappearing in the heavens. Meanwhile the wind had
fallen, and amid an almost dead calm the sails of the Alcyon hung
listlessly, with only an occasional flapping. The yacht moved forward,
indeed, but so slowly that it scarcely appeared to move at all.

Monte-Cristo and Haydée came on deck at dawn, but the young girl
displayed such terror at the unwonted aspect of the sun and the sea that
the Count speedily persuaded her to return with him to the cabin. There
she cowered upon a divan, hiding her face in her hands and moaning
piteously. Her fiancé, distressed at her condition, endeavored to soothe
and comfort her, but utterly without avail; her fears could neither be
banished nor allayed. At length he threw himself on a rug at her feet,
and, disengaging her hands from her face, drew them about his neck;
Haydée clasped him frantically and clung to him as if she deemed that
embrace a final one.

As they were sitting thus, the Alcyon received a sudden and violent
shock that shook the noble yacht from stem to stern. Instantly there was
a sound of hurrying feet on deck, and the captain could be heard
shouting hoarsely to the sailors.

Monte-Cristo leaped up and caught Haydée in his arms. At that moment Ali
darted down the companion-way and stood trembling before his master.

"What was that shock?" demanded the Count, hurriedly.

The agitated Nubian made a sign signifying he did not know, but that all
was yet safe.

"Remain with your mistress, Ali," said Monte-Cristo. "I am going to see
what is the matter."

"Oh! no, no," cried Haydée, imploringly, as the Count placed her again
on the divan and was moving away. "Oh! no, no; do not leave me, my lord,
or I shall die!"

Ashy pale, Haydée arose from the divan, and cast herself on her knees at
Monte-Cristo's feet.

"Swear to me, at least, that you will not needlessly expose yourself to
danger," she uttered, in a pleading tone.

"I swear it," answered the Count. "Ali will faithfully guard you while I
am gone," he added, "and ere you can realize my absence, I shall be
again at your side."

With these words he tore himself away and hastened to the deck.

There a scene met his eye as unexpected as it was appalling. The entire
surface of the Mediterranean was aglow with phosphorescence, and the sun
was veiled completely by a heavy cloud that seemed to cover the whole
expanse of the sky. This cloud was not black, but of a bloody hue, and
the atmosphere was so densely charged with sulphur that it was almost
impossible to breathe. The sea was boiling more furiously than ever, and
the puffs of vapor that had before only occasionally filtered through
the waves now leaped up incessantly, each puff attended with a slight
explosion; the vapor was grayish when it first arose from the water, but
as it ascended it became red, mingling at length with the bloody cloud
that each moment acquired greater density. The wind blew fitfully,
sometimes amounting to a gale and then utterly vanishing without the
slightest warning. Soon the bloody cloud seemed to settle of its own
weight upon the sea, growing so thick that the eye could not penetrate
it, and a few feet from the yacht all was inky darkness.

Monte-Cristo hurried to the captain, who was endeavoring to quiet the
superstitious fears of the sailors. Drawing him aside, he said, in a low
tone:

"Giacomo, we are in frightful danger. This elemental disturbance is
volcanic, and how it will end cannot be foretold. No doubt an earthquake
is devastating the nearest land, or will do so before many hours have
elapsed. At any moment rocks or islands may arise from the sea, and
obstruct our passage. All we can do is to hold ourselves in readiness
for whatever calamity may happen, and make for Crete as rapidly as
possible, with the hope of eventually getting beyond the volcanic zone.
Do not enlighten the crew as to the cause of the disturbance; did they
know, or even suspect it, they could not be controlled, but would become
either stupefied or reckless. Try to convince them that we are simply in
the midst of a severe electrical storm that will speedily exhaust its
fury and subside. Now, to work, and remember that everything depends
upon your courage and resolution."

Giacomo rejoined the sailors, who were huddled together at the stern of
the yacht like so many frightened sheep. He spoke to them, doing his
utmost to reassure them, and ultimately succeeded so well that they
resumed their neglected duties with some show of alacrity and even
cheerfulness.

Meanwhile, Monte-Cristo, with folded arms and an outward show of
calmness, was pacing the deck as if nothing unusual were in progress,
and his demeanor was not without its effect on the sailors, who looked
upon him with a species of awe and admiration. At times he went below to
cheer the drooping spirits of his beloved Haydée, but speedily returned
that the influence of his presence might not be lost.

Thus the day passed. A night of painful suspense succeeded it, during
which not a soul on board the Alcyon thought of sleeping. Nothing,
however, occurred, save that the intense lightning of the previous night
was renewed. Toward eleven o'clock the breeze freshened to such an
extent that the yacht sped along on her course with great fleetness.

In the morning the sun arose amid a purple haze, and the Mediterranean
presented a more tumultuous and threatening aspect than it had the
preceding day. The breeze was still blowing stiffly, and the lightning
continued. Giacomo informed Monte-Cristo that unless a calm should
suddenly come on they would certainly arrive at Crete by noon. The
sailors, he added, were in good spirits, and might be relied upon,
though they were much fatigued by reason of their unceasing labor.

At ten o'clock the man at the wheel hurriedly summoned the captain to
his side, and, with a look of terror and bewilderment, directed his
attention to the compass, the needle of which no longer pointed to the
north, but was dancing a mad dance, not remaining stationary for a
single instant. To complicate the situation still further, the sun was
suddenly obscured, absolute darkness invading both sea and sky. Only
when the vivid lightning tore the dense clouds apart were those on board
the Alcyon enabled to catch a glimpse of what was going on about them,
and that glimpse was but momentary. Thunder peals were now added to the
terrors of the time, while the yacht tossed and plunged on angry,
threatening billows. Showers of sparks and glowing cinders, as if from
some mighty conflagration, poured down into the water, striking its
surface with an ominous hiss; they resembled meteors, and their
brilliancy was augmented by the surrounding gloom. Rain also began to
descend, not in drops, but in broad sheets and with the roar of a
cataract; in a moment everybody on the Alcyon's deck was drenched to the
skin.

Haydée had not ventured from the cabin since the first day of the
elemental commotion; in obedience to his master's commands, Ali
constantly watched over her whenever the Count was facing the strange
storm with Giacomo and the sailors.

As the captain approached the man at the wheel, Monte-Cristo fixed his
eyes upon the old Italian's countenance and saw it assume a deathly
pallor as he noticed that the needle of the compass could no longer be
depended on.

In an instant the Count was beside him and realized the extent of the
new evil that had befallen them.

"We can steer but by guess now," said Giacomo, in a low, hoarse whisper.
"God grant that we may be able to reach our destination."

As he spoke, a loud crash was heard, and the rudder, torn from its
fastenings by the violence of the tempest, swept by them, vanishing amid
the darkness. The man at the wheel gazed after it, uttering a cry of
despair.

"We are completely at the mercy of the wind and waves!" said
Monte-Cristo, in an undertone. "Can nothing be done?" he added,
hurriedly.

"Nothing, Excellency," returned the captain. "A temporary rudder might
be rigged were the sea calmer, but, boiling and seething as it is, such


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