Involuntarily Medje covered her face with her hands.
Monte-Cristo angrily retorted:
"Silence. The weaker have a right to the hospitality of the stronger."
"Oh, my lord. Heed my warning. She is a witch, an accursed fortune-teller. You will be sorry if she enters the camp. She will cast a spell over camels and men."
"All the same, leave me. Medje has placed herself under my protection and I will not deceive her confidence."
The Arabian girl clung weeping to the count.
"Do not grieve," he said, "you have mentioned a name which renders you holy in my eyes."
He then turned to the Arab, and sternly continued:
"You may have your liberty if you desire. But if you have not only spoken in your own name but also in that of your comrades, tell them that Monte-Cristo, the lion-tamer, is afraid of nobody. They may all leave. The desert with its terrors cannot alter my will."