He hastily mounted the stairway, almost dragging Zuleika with him. Ali remained below.
When they reached the open air they paused until the mute joined them; then the little party regained the beach, where Monte-Cristo waved his handkerchief thrice. In obedience to this signal the boat immediately left the yacht and was pulled swiftly to the shore.
A few moments later the Count, Zuleika and Ali were safely deposited on the Haydée's deck and the gallant little vessel turned her prow towards the Italian coast.
Monte-Cristo and his daughter, with Ali at a short distance from them, stood closely watching the fast disappearing island. The Count was more agitated and paler than he had yet been. Nervous tremors shook his frame and his teeth were firmly clenched. The usually impassible countenance of the faithful Nubian mute wore an expression of blank horror. Zuleika gazed at her father and then at the servant. She knew not what to make of their strange, inexplicable emotion. Placing her hand upon the Count's shoulder, she was about to speak to him, to endeavor to calm his agitation, when suddenly there was a loud explosion on the Isle of Monte-Cristo and a huge column of black smoke shot up into the air.
The Count covered his face with his hands as if to shut out the sight. Ali fell prostrate upon the deck, pressing his contorted visage against his master's feet.
"What was that, oh! father, what was that?" cried Zuleika, clinging to the Count in wild alarm.
"The subterranean palace of the Isle of Monte-Cristo is no more!" he replied, sadly. "At my command it replaced with its magnificence the rude and shapeless grottoes, at my command it has perished!"
As he spoke the rocky island was gradually lost to view in the distance, and the Haydée sped over the waves of the Mediterranean like some glorious water-fowl in full flight.