"What do you mean by friend?" he asked, a cold shiver passing through him.
Louise laughed a short, nervous laugh, and, looking him full in the eyes, replied:
"You know what I mean. I love you better than any man I ever met, save one."
Captain Joliette slowly arose to his feet and stood staring at her, his passion and his scruples waging a bitter battle within him for the mastery. The temptress half reclined on the sofa, a miracle of seductive grace and voluptuous beauty. He moved toward her as if to seize her in his arms; then, suddenly checking himself, he asked, with a convulsive gasp:
"And that man—that one?"
"Was separated from me forever through the vile machinations of that mysterious and cold-blooded fiend, the Count of Monte-Cristo!"
"The Count of Monte-Cristo?" exclaimed the young man, lost in amazement.
"Yes, the Count of Monte-Cristo, who afterwards disappeared from Paris and has not since been heard of."
"You mistake; the Count of Monte-Cristo is in Paris now; he calls himself Edmond Dantès and is the celebrated Deputy from Marseilles over whom everybody has gone wild for some time past."