Morrel looked at him in utter amazement. “But what has happened, then, since last evening, count?”
“The same thing that happened to Brutus the night before the battle of Philippi; I have seen a ghost.”
“And that ghost——”
“Told me, Morrel, that I had lived long enough.”
Maximilian and Emmanuel looked at each other. Monte Cristo drew out his watch. “Let us go,” said he; “it is five minutes past seven, and the appointment was for eight o’clock.”
A carriage was in readiness at the door. Monte Cristo stepped into it with his two friends. He had stopped a moment in the passage to listen at a door, and Maximilian and Emmanuel, who had considerately passed forward a few steps, thought they heard him answer by a sigh to a sob from within. As the clock struck eight they drove up to the place of meeting.
“We are first,” said Morrel, looking out of the window.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Baptistin, who had followed his master with indescribable terror, “but I think I see a carriage down there under the trees.”
Monte Cristo sprang lightly from the carriage, and offered his hand to assist Emmanuel and Maximilian. The latter retained the count’s hand between his.
“I like,” said he, “to feel a hand like this, when its owner relies on the goodness of his cause.”
“It seems to me,” said Emmanuel, “that I see two young men down there, who are evidently, waiting.”
Monte Cristo drew Morrel a step or two behind his brother-in-law.