"You have rightly guessed, madame," replied the count.
"And I am Madame Heloise de Villefort."
The count bowed with the air of a person who hears a name for the first time.
"How grateful will M. de Villefort be for all your goodness. To you alone it is owing that his wife and child exist! Most certainly, but for your intrepid servant, this dear child and myself must both have perished."
"Indeed, I still shudder at the fearful danger you were placed in."
"I trust you will not object to my offering a fitting recompense to your servant."
"I beseech you, madame," replied Monte-Cristo, "not to spoil Ali, either by too great praise or rewards. Ali is my slave, and in saving your life he was but discharging his duty to me."
"Nay," interposed Madame de Villefort, on whom this authoritative style made a deep impression, "nay, but consider that he risked his life."
"His life madame, belongs to me, for I saved it."
Madame de Villefort made no further reply: her mind was absorbed in the contemplation of the man, who, from the first instant of her beholding him, had made so powerful an impression on her. During the evident preoccupation of Madame de Villefort, Monte-Cristo scrutinized the features and appearance of the boy she kept covering with kisses.
The child was small for his age, and unnaturally pale. A mass of straight black hair, defying all attempts to train or curl it, fell over his projecting forehead, and hung down to his shoulders, giving increased vivacity to eyes already sparkling with a youthful love of mischief and fondness for every forbidden enjoyment. His mouth was large, and the lips, which had not yet regained their color, were particularly thin; in fact, the deep and crafty look, forming the principal character of the child's face, belonged rather to a boy of twelve or fourteen years of age than to one so young.
His first movement was to free himself by a violent push from the encircling arms of his mother, and to open the casket from whence the count had taken the phial of elixir; then, without asking permission of any one, he proceeded, like a child unaccustomed to restrain his caprices, to pull the corks out of all the bottles.
"Touch nothing, my little friend," cried the count, eagerly; "some of those liquids are not only dangerous to taste, but even to smell."
Madame de Villefort became very pale, and, seizing her son's arm, drew him anxiously toward her; but, once satisfied of his safety, she
