"I had three similar ones," returned Monte-Cristo. "I gave one to
the Grand Seigneur, who mounted it in his saber; another to our holy
father the Pope, who had it set in his tiara, opposite to nearly as large
though not so fine a one, given by the Emperor Napoleon to his predecessor, Pius VII.; I kept the third for myself, and I had it hollowed
out, which reduced its value, but rendered it more commodious for the purpose I intended it for."
Every one looked at Monte-Cristo with astonishment; he spoke with so much simplicity that it was evident he spoke the truth, or that he was mad. However, the sight of the emerald made them naturally incline to the former belief.
"And what did these two sovereigns give you in exchange for these magnificent presents?" asked Debray.
"The Grand Seigneur, the liberty of a woman," replied the count; "the Pope, the life of a man; so that once in my life I have been as powerful as if heaven had made me come into the world on the steps of a throne."
"And it was Peppino you saved, was it not?" cried Morcerf; "it was for him that you obtained pardon?"
"Perhaps," returned the count smiling.
"Monsieur le Comte, you have no idea what pleasure it gives me to hear you speak thus," said Morcerf. "I had announced you beforehand to my friends as an enchanter of the 'Arabian Nights,' a wizard of the Middle Ages; but the Parisians are so subtle in paradoxes, that they mistake for caprices of the imagination the most incontestable truths, when these truths do not form a part of their daily existence. For example, here is Debray, who reads, and Beauchamp, who prints, every day, 'A member of the Jockey-Club has been stopped and robbed on the Boulevard; that four persons have been assassinated in the Rue St. Denis or the Faubourg St. Germain; that ten, fifteen, or twenty thieves have been arrested in a cafe on the Boulevard du Temple, or in the Thermes of Julian,' and who yet contests the existence of the bandits of the Maremna, of the Roman Campagna, or the Pontine Marshes. Tell them yourself that I was taken by bandits, and that without your generous intercession I should now have been sleeping in the Catacombs of Saint Sebastian, instead of receiving them in my humble abode in the Rue du Helder."
"Ah," said Monte-Cristo, "you promised me never to mention that trifling circumstance."
"It was not I who made that promise!" cried Morcerf; "it must have been some one else whom you have rescued in the same manner, and whom you have forgotten. Pray speak of it, for, if you do so, you will not
