"At the moment when you laid the pen down and came to me."

"You saw me then? You were not sleeping?"

"I do not know, papa; I have read of the eye of the serpent, which frightens the little birds and prevents them from making a single movement. I could not move, and the two men drew near me. They pressed their long hands upon my forehead and wished to drag me off. Then finally I screamed and they disappeared."

Monte-Cristo embraced the excited child and rea.s.suringly murmured:

"Keep quiet, Spero, I am with you."

Monte-Cristo looked thoughtful. Suppose his boy should be taken from him? No, it was nonsense. Spero must have been dreaming.

"Spero," he said, turning to the child, "I shall watch over your slumbers! Lie down again and have no fear. Come, I will kiss you; think of your mother and go to sleep."

The boy smiled now and his pale cheeks grew rosy. His father's voice gave him courage, and, laying his head upon Monte-Cristo's shoulder, he fell asleep, murmuring: "Dear, dear mother."

When he was fast asleep, Monte-Cristo gently withdrew his arm and softly walked to the corner of the tent. The cloth of which the tent was made was very strong and thick, and withstood the rays of the sun and the rain. When the count let his hand glide over it, he almost uttered a cry of astonishment. Spero had not been dreaming! The tent had been cut from top to bottom as if with a sharp sword.

Who had any interest in breaking into his tent? Did they wish to kill him or Spero?

The count turned deadly pale. He had tried to rea.s.sure Spero by telling him that dreams were untruths, but he himself felt disturbed. Throwing the curtains of the tent aside, Monte-Cristo went out into the night.

The pale moonlight shone full upon the dark rocks. With the sharp glance of an eagle Monte-Cristo gazed about. It seemed hardly possible to him that two men had gone through the camp unhindered and undisturbed, and yet it was so. The cut in the canvas was the best proof of this. Shaking his head, the count returned to the tent and mended the tear in the cloth with fine wire thread. Thereupon he shoved the table near the wall and began to write. Spero could sleep peacefully; his father was watching. Haydee had intrusted the child to him, and he had to bring it back to her in safety. Suddenly he was aroused by the roar of a lion.

The count seized a gun, flung his arm about Spero, whom he would not have left alone for the world, and hurried out. The Arabs, stricken with terror, had fled in all directions.

"Let no one stir!" shouted the count above the din. "I will answer for your life, but you must obey my orders."

"Here I am," said Coucou, coming forward. "Master, let me follow you. I know the lion and understand how to fight him."

"Master, take my life, but spare your own," implored Jacopo.

"Jacopo, Coucou," said the count, "I intrust Spero to you, and let no one fire until I do. The first shot belongs to me. If I should miss the lion, then you can take your turn."

A new uproar was heard, followed by the report of a gun.

"A man seems to have attacked the beast," said the count, running in the direction whence the sound proceeded.

To his horror he saw a man lying on the ground, and the lion standing over him with one paw on his breast. It was Bertuccio, Benedetto's foster-father. Carefully, fearlessly, looking into the yellow eye of the king of beasts, Monte-Cristo advanced. The lion growled. The slightest movement would have caused Bertuccio's death. With a bound it sprang at the count. Quick as thought the latter fired. With a roar of pain the majestic beast turned in the air and fell to the ground, dead. The next minute the count knelt at Bertuccio's side. The latter was unconscious.

The count raised his pale face, and, dashing some water over it, gradually restored the old man to his senses.

"Bertuccio," he softly said, "do you know me?"

"Yes, master. Ah, the lion has finished me! Its claws were buried like daggers in my breast."

"Have you nothing to say to me? Have you no wish to be carried out?

Speak, you know I am your friend."

"Quick, quick!" he whispered, breathlessly; "one more--drop--Spero--you--"

"Drink!" said the count, placing a bottle to his lips.

"Master, beware of your enemies. I saw them, I followed them, and then I met the lion."

"Enemies, you say? How many were there?"

"Two. They were Arabs. Aja.s.suas, as I believe. Oh, beware of them!"

"Bertuccio, since twenty years you have been a faithful friend to me.

Speak, and I swear on my honor I will do what you say."

"My dear master--it is--about--that wretch."

"You speak of Benedetto?"

"Yes. I would have killed him then if you had not held me back, but yet I am glad I did not do it. I ask you as a favor to--"

"To what?"

"To let Benedetto live, if he should ever cross your path. He must not die by your hand."

"I swear not to kill him, Bertuccio; by the head of my child."

Bertuccio muttered his thanks, and pa.s.sed silently away.

"The lion has conquered the lion," whispered a voice close to the count.

Monte-Cristo turned around and saw a delicate young girl in a white bernouse.

"Who are you?" he gently asked.

CHAPTER LIV

MEDJE

At the count's question, the girl pa.s.sed her small white hand slowly across her forehead, and in a low voice said:

"I am she who no longer has any family, for her family has been tortured; she has no native country, for it has exiled her; no friend, for her only one is in the power of his enemies."

"Then your name is Medje?" exclaimed the count in a sudden fit of joyful inspiration.

"Yes, I am Medje," she proudly answered, throwing back her veil and revealing a countenance of superb beauty.

Coucou now hastened up, and as he beheld the young Arabian, he excitedly exclaimed:

"Medje, commander, it is Medje. Ask her where her 'little papa' is."