THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.
185
count had just pulled the silken check-string, which was fastened to Ali's finger. The Nubian immediately descended, and opened the carriage-door. It was a lovely starlight night—they had just reached the top of the hill Villejuif, the platform from whence Paris, like some dark
Paris, Adieu.
sea, is seen to agitate its millions of lights, resembling phosphoric waves,—waves indeed more noisy, more passionate, more changeable, more furious, more greedy, than those of the tempestuous ocean,—waves which never lie calm, like those of the vast sea,—waves ever destructive, ever foaming, and ever restless.
