"Who knows whether it would not have proved fortunate for you?" whispered the count sorrowfully.
"Oh, Edmond, you break my heart with such words! How could I, separated from you, be happy? I live, I breathe for you only, I honor you not only as my husband, but as the greatest, noblest man!"
"Haydee, you make me blush—I am weak and sinful the same as others!"
"No, oh, no! If you, as a chastening angel, caused the guilty to vindicate themselves, and recompensed what is good; you seemed to me almost god-like. You raised me to be your wife; to you I am indebted for the greatest happiness of a woman, the happiness of possessing a darling child, and Spero is the more dear to me as he promises to be your very image."
Monte-Cristo threw a timid glance at Spero, who was still diligently reading by his lamp, and then cordially said:
"Haydee, then you never regretted having bestowed your hand on me?"
"Never."
"I have never caused you any pain?"
"None—I am the happiest of women."
"And if circumstances occurred which would compel me to give you pain?"