The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 2

"I had locked the door, but it was almost instantly burst open and Ali Pasha leaped in, followed by several of his crew.

"Holding my weapon uplifted in my hand, I cried out, in a tone of desperate determination:

"'The first scoundrel who dares to lay a finger on me shall die like a dog!'

"This speech was greeted with a loud burst of contemptuous laughter, and Ali Pasha himself, springing forward, whirled the dagger from my grasp with his yataghan. This done, he sternly fixed his glance upon me and said:

"'Haydee, wife of Monte-Cristo, Haydee, the Greek slave, you are my captive! Sons of Islam, seize her and conduct her to the slave mart of Stamboul!'

"Three Turks advanced to obey this command. They seized me and in vain did I struggle in their ruffianly grasp. In a moment I was securely bound and gagged. A mantle was thrown over my head. I felt myself thrust into a sack and swooned just as one of the buccaneers was lifting me upon his shoulder.

"When I recovered consciousness, I found myself, with a number of half-clad Georgian and Circa.s.sian girls, in the dreaded slave bazaar of Constantinople. Old memories, fraught with terror, rushed upon me. I recalled the time when I was before exposed for sale and Monte-Cristo had bought me. Would he come to my rescue once more? I scarcely dared to hope for such a thing. I pictured to myself the Count's desolation and distress on discovering that I had been stolen from him. But what could he do? How could he find me again? And even should he discover me, how could he s.n.a.t.c.h me from the grasp of Ali Pasha, whose favor with the Sultan was notorious? Monte-Cristo, with all his prestige, was but one man, and no match for the mendaciousness, duplicity and power of the entire Turkish court! I was lost, and nothing could save me!

"How shall I describe my feelings when I realized that I was even then, at that very moment, exposed for sale, that from being the free and honored wife of Monte-Cristo I had suddenly become a mere article of human merchandise, valued simply at so many miserable piastres! My fate hung upon a thread. Would I be purchased by some grandee as a new ornament for his harem, or was I destined to fall into the hands of a brutal master, to be used as a household drudge for the execution of bitter and revolting tasks?

"When each new purchaser entered the bazaar I trembled from head to foot, I quivered in every limb. One by one I saw the unfortunate Georgian and Circa.s.sian girls inspected and disposed of, until at last I was the only slave unsold in the entire mart. I thought my turn must speedily come, that the next Mussulman who entered would surely buy me, and I had firmly resolved upon suicide at the first opportunity, choosing death rather than slavery.

"Ali Pasha had personally conducted all the visitors about the bazaar, dilating in the extravagant oriental fas.h.i.+on upon the extraordinary merits of the captives he wished to turn into money. Many times he had paused before me where I stood cowering in a corner, volubly expatiating on my value and attractiveness, but hitherto not a single Turk had evinced the slightest inclination to relieve him of me.

"At last two men made their appearance and eagerly glanced around the mart. Both wore turbans and full Turkish dress. Their faces were shrouded with heavy beards, and there was an indescribable something about them that stamped them as personages of exalted rank.

"They paused a short distance from me, and one of them said, addressing Ali Pasha:

"'What is the name of yonder slave?'

"'Zuleika,' answered the obsequious and unscrupulous slave-dealer.

"'From what country is she and how did you obtain possession of her?'

asked the second visitor, who had not yet spoken. His voice was subdued and evidently disguised; nevertheless there was something familiar in its tone that strangely stirred me and filled me with hope.

"Ali Pasha replied to his inquiry with unblus.h.i.+ng effrontery:

"'The slave is from Circa.s.sia, and was sold to me by her parents.'

"I know not how I obtained the courage to do so, but instantly I cried out:

"'All that vile wretch has said is false! My name is Haydee, and I am the wife of the Count of Monte-Cristo! Ali Pasha forcibly abducted me from my husband's yacht that now lies in the harbor of Constantinople!'

"'Ali Pasha,' said the first speaker, 'this is a grave accusation! It is true that the ill.u.s.trious Monte-Cristo's yacht now lies in the harbor of Stamboul, and such an abduction as this slave has mentioned did, indeed, take place.'

"The slave-dealer winced slightly, but, instantly recovering himself, calmly answered:

"'I know nothing of Monte-Cristo, his yacht or his wife. As for this lying slave, I will punish her on the spot!'

"With these words he advanced toward me and lifted his clenched fist to strike. I shrank tremblingly against the wall, but the next instant a blow that would have felled an ox had hurled Ali Pasha to the stone floor of the bazaar. It was delivered by the man whose voice had seemed familiar to me, and, tearing off his beard, my husband, the undaunted Count of Monte-Cristo himself, caught me in his arms and folded me to his breast!

"Ali Pasha had now arisen to his feet. Livid with rage he rushed at Monte-Cristo with a dagger in his hand, swearing by the Prophet that he would have his heart's blood. But the other visitor caught his arm and held him back.

"'Who are you and why do you stand between me and my just revenge?'

cried the slave-dealer, furiously.

"The stranger threw open his robe, and on his breast gleamed a diamond-studded crescent.

"'The Grand Vizier!' exclaimed Ali Pasha, prostrating himself before the high official. The latter clapped his hands, whereupon six soldiers marched into the bazaar.

"'Seize that wretch!' he cried, pointing to the slave-dealer, 'and inflict upon him the punishment of the bastinado!'

"When this order had been executed, the Grand Vizier, placing himself at the head of the soldiers, escorted Monte-Cristo and myself to the harbor and saw us safely on board the royal caique.

"In due time we reached the yacht, where the officers and crew were at their posts as usual.

"After his interview with the Sultan, Monte-Cristo, accompanied by the Grand Vizier, had returned to the Alcyon in the caique. To his astonishment he found his men lying on the deck tightly bound. On releasing them he learned what had happened, and his influence was sufficient to induce the Grand Vizier, who was greatly affected by the Count's despair when he discovered the terrible fate that had befallen me, to risk the Sultan's displeasure by aiding him to recover me from the clutches of Ali Pasha.

"Such," concluded Haydee, "was the manner in which Monte-Cristo rescued me from the hands of the villainous Turkish slave-dealer and a fate worse than death."

"Sister," said Mercedes, "no wonder you love Monte-Cristo so devotedly, for he is one of the n.o.blest and most heroic men upon this earth!"

CHAPTER III.

THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.

Maldar and his Khouan followers had reached the desert with their captive. For a long time they heard Monte-Cristo and his men in hot pursuit of them, but the sound, growing fainter and fainter, had finally ceased. The Sultan concluded that the Count had been misled by some fancied indication and had taken a wrong direction. He therefore gave himself no further concern in regard to him. Once in the desert he slackened the pace of his Arab steed and the Khouans imitated his example. The party rode on for several miles when they arrived at a small oasis, covered with tall palm trees, that resembled an island of verdure amid the far-reaching waste of arid sand. There Maldar gave the order to dismount. The Khouans sprang lightly from their weary horses, both men and animals going directly to the wells, where they took long draughts of the cool, refres.h.i.+ng water. The night was now far spent, and as the abductors of Esperance threw themselves upon the gra.s.s surrounding the wells, the first rosy streaks of dawn appeared in the eastern heavens. The horses stood cropping the verdure for a brief period, then they also lay down for rest and recuperation. Soon slumber reigned supreme, for Maldar, fearing neither pursuit nor attack, had not taken the precaution to post sentinels. The scarf had been removed from Esperance's mouth, and the son of Monte-Cristo, still wrapped in his lethargic sleep, lay on the sod beside Maldar near one of the wells.

It was a wild and picturesque group, such a group as would have filled the soul of a painter with delight and inspiration.

As the light increased, but while it was yet vague and uncertain, giving a demoniac and supernatural cast to the group and its tropical surroundings, Esperance suddenly awoke and raised himself upon his elbow. For an instant he gazed around him in bewilderment and terror.

Was he dead, and were those swarthy-visaged forms extended motionless on the gra.s.s of the oasis the forms of fiends? This thought shot through his mind and augmented his consternation. When he fell asleep he was with his father, with the dauntless Monte-Cristo, and the last faces he had seen were the faces of French people and friends. Now he was in the midst of beings of another race, in the midst of strangers. Strangers?

No, for at that moment his eyes rested on Maldar, and he realized that he was again in the clutches of his remorseless foe, and that the men around him belonged to the dreaded Khouan tribe.

He was unbound; nothing restrained his movements and not a single guard was watching over him. His fear vanished with his bewilderment and gave place to heroic resolution. Why should he not escape and make his way back to his beloved father and devoted countrymen? He arose cautiously to his feet, and peered into the distance. His heart throbbed with anguish, for beyond the narrow confines of the green oasis, as far as his eye could reach, stretched the trackless sands of the arid and inhospitable desert. Flight would be madness, nay, perhaps, death, but would it not also be death to remain? The son of Monte-Cristo, full of his father's unconquerable spirit, determined to take the chances of flight. Doubtless Monte-Cristo and his friends were even now scouring the desert in search of him. If he could mount one of the Khouans'

horses and escape from the hands of his fanatical foes, he might meet them.

Esperance stole cautiously toward an Arab courser, but he had not taken a dozen steps when Maldar awoke, leaped to his feet, ran to him and laid an iron hand upon his shoulder.

"So you thought to escape me, did you, son of Monte-Cristo?" said the Sultan, with a mocking laugh and a fiendish light in big eyes. "By the beard of the Prophet, your presumption is unbounded! But you are mine, and no power on earth can save you now!"

The heroic lad gazed full in Maldar's face and, without the quiver of a muscle, answered defiantly:

"Wretch that you are to war on defenceless children, I do not fear you!

Harm but a single hair of my head, and Monte-Cristo will grind you into dust!"

Maldar replied with a sneer: "Monte-Cristo, the infidel charlatan, is miles away. With all his boasted power he can do nothing to aid you. I have you now, and you shall die!"

With the quickness of lightning Esperance thrust out his hand, seizing the Sultan's jeweled yataghan and drawing it from its scabbard. At the same time he raised it above his head and brought it down, aiming it straight at Maldar's heart. The Sultan parried the thrust with his arm, receiving a gaping wound from which the blood gushed in a ruby stream.

Smarting with pain and foaming with rage, he threw himself upon the daring boy, tore the yataghan from his grasp, and with its heavy handle struck him a blow on the head that stretched him senseless at his feet.