Edmond Dantès | Page 3

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