The woman slowly approached Sanselme, and looked at him closely. She came so near that she could touch him, and then with a wild laugh, she screamed:

"The convict! Yes, it is he!"

And then, shuddering from head to foot, she repeated, "Benedetto! Who speaks of Benedetto?"

"What does all this mean?" asked Fanfar.

"I will tell you," said Sanselme, averting his eyes. "Yes, it is true, I am an escaped convict. This woman is right, but I never did her any harm. Look at me, woman! Tell me, was it I who struck you?"

The mad woman tore away the rags that covered the terrible scar on her breast.

"Oh! how it hurts," she said, moaning, "and how hot my head is."

"But who did it?"

The woman in a frightened whisper, answered:

"It was Benedetto--my son!"

A cry of horror escaped from every heart.

"Yes," exclaimed Sanselme, "and the wretch still lives. He a.s.sa.s.sinated his mother, and by what miracle she escaped, I know not. He--this Benedetto--is to-day in Paris. He has come to avenge himself on Monte-Cristo."

Fanfar questioned Sanselme, who avowed everything except that Jane was his daughter. He would not have admitted this had he been threatened with the guillotine. Fanfar listened attentively.

"It is as clear as day to me," he said, at last, "that all this is Benedetto's work. Therefore we will first find him, and of him we will demand an account of this new crime. Sanselme, you have been a great criminal. Are you ready to prove your repentance?"

"I will obey you in whatsoever you order. Save Jane, no matter what becomes of me."

"Then all of you will make ready for the fray. I will summon the Count of Monte-Cristo, as it was agreed I should do in case of danger. He will be here in three days, and we must be able to say to him that we have saved his son."

"Yes, we must say that," cried the Zouave, "or Coucon will be dead."

"To work then," said Fanfar, rising. "Sanselme, come into my cabinet, there are several questions I wish to ask. But first, who is this woman?"

"Benedetto never told me," answered Sanselme.

Fanfar went to the mad woman, who was crouching near the door.

"Who are you?" he said. "What is your name?"

She laughed in a stupid way.

"I have no name, I am dead!"

CHAPTER LVIII.

GOUTRAN AND CARMEN.

Goutran was really in love, although for a time his attention had been distracted by the strange affair of Jane Zeld. But now that calm was in a measure restored, Goutran thought of Carmen with quickened pulse. He no longer hesitated. He resolved to write to a millionaire uncle of his who spent his last days hunting wolves in the Ardennes, and beg him to come up and lay his proposal before the banker. He told Esperance what he meant to do, and the Vicomte encouraged the plan.

When he had come to this conclusion, he was astonished to find that the same indecision again attacked him. Why did he hesitate? He would have been at a loss to say. He determined, however, on one of two things, either to ask Carmen's hand or never see her again. He had been with Esperance for forty-eight hours, encouraging him and ministering to Jane, and now he felt the need of fresh air. He walked toward Saint Cloud, softly saying to himself among the green trees:

"I love her! I love her!"

On his return the decision was made. He would write to his uncle the next day. As he entered the hotel, the concierge said to him mysteriously:

"There was a lady here, sir."

"A lady! What lady?"

"Ah! sir, that I can't say. My discretion was too great to permit me to ask her name. I think she is young and pretty, though she was heavily vailed. She asked for you, and when I told her you were out she looked embarra.s.sed, and finally drew from her pocket a little note which she had prepared. She gave it to me, saying it was very urgent."

"A note! Where is it? You should have given it to me at once."

"Oh! it is safe, sir, in my davenport."

A concierge with a davenport! What is the world coming to, thought Goutran.

Finally the good man produced the paper in question, rose colored and perfumed. Goutran tore it open, but did not read it until he reached his own room. The address was in delicate, long letters, the result of lessons from an English master. Who could have sent it? He did not know the writing. But when he glanced at the signature he with difficulty refrained from a cry of surprise. The note was signed, "Carmen de L----." These were its contents:

"MONSIEUR GOUTRAN--or will you allow me to call you my friend--I must see you at once on matters of vast importance. To-night, at eleven o'clock, I shall expect you. Ring at the side door of the hotel; my maid will be in attendance. Do not fail, for you and those you love are in danger."

Goutran was amazed. What did these mysterious lines mean? And of whom did Carmen speak when she said "those you love"? He was greatly disturbed, but he was not the man to hesitate.

At ten o'clock he was already walking up and down a street which commanded a view of the Hotel Laisangy, but he felt none of the emotion natural to a lover going to a rendezvous. He had a feeling of strange oppression. Finally the clock struck eleven. The side door was on the Rue Saint Honore. Goutran was about to ring the bell, when the door was opened and a hand was laid on his.

"Come this way," said a woman's voice.

It was the curious maid whom we have already seen. She was enchanted, feeling sure that it was a lover she admitted. The stairs were carpeted and dimly lighted. Presently he entered Carmen's boudoir, but she was not there.

"I will notify the young lady," said the maid, with one of those knowing smiles that tell so much.

Goutran was standing with his hat in his hand when Carmen entered. She was very simply dressed in black. Her beautiful face was very pale. Her blonde hair looked like burnished gold. She extended her hand as he advanced with a profound bow.

"Many thanks," she said, "for having come. I hardly dared expect you."

"Why did you doubt me? Did you suppose that I could be deaf to such a mark of confidence?"

Carmen smiled sadly.

"Yes," she said, "I do feel entire confidence in you, a confidence that is most real."