"Sister," said Mercédès at last, "why are you so sad and silent?"
"I know not," replied the wife of Monte-Cristo, languidly.
"You are thinking of your husband, the noblest of men, who is even now, perhaps, risking his life in the Algerian desert to save and recover my son."
"You speak truly," returned Haydée with a shudder; "I am thinking of him, and my heart is strangely oppressed."
"Have confidence in Monte-Cristo," said her companion, earnestly. "His lion courage, wonderful mental resources and mysterious power will render him more than a match for the untutored Arabs with whom it is his mission to contend."
"Yes, Mercédès; but my son, my Esperance? He is so young to be exposed to the dangers of the desert!"
"But Monte-Cristo is with him, and the father's love will shield him from all harm."
Haydée made no reply, but continued to gaze dreamily into space. Mercédès, still toying with her hair, strove to rouse her.
"Sister," said she, abruptly, "yesterday you promised to tell me how Monte-Cristo rescued you from the hands of the Turkish slave-dealer, Ali Pasha. Will you not fulfil that promise now?"
Haydée turned her eyes full on her companion's countenance and a look of gratitude passed over her pale visage. She saw that Mercédès wished to draw her mind from the contemplation of her husband's present peril by inducing her to revert to his heroism of the past.