"It is the name of a woman."
"Master, master, I entreat you not to mention the name. I suffer enough without that."
The count's countenance grew gloomy.
"Jacopo," said he, peremptorily, "I am forbearing if anybody places confidence in me; irreconcilable if any one seeks to deceive me. I keep silent if you wish it, but we are forever separated. Farewell, you will never see me more!"
He turned to go, but the power which this singular man exercised over others was so great that Jacopo broke out into loud lamentations. He preferred to suffer anything rather than consent to perpetual separation.
"Say, master," he said, with a sigh, "am I able to leave you?"
Monte-Cristo smiled.
"You are a child," he then said. "You cannot bear to hear anybody speaking of your love, because you are forever separated from her."
"Oh, master, then you know everything."