HAYDEE, THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO.
It was in Monte-Cristo's luxurious mansion in Marseilles, one bright
morning in April. Since the Count's departure for Algeria in search of
her son, Mercedes, faithful to her oath never to leave Haydee, had taken
up her residence there. The two women who had filled such important
places in the life of Monte-Cristo were sitting together in the large
drawing-room, the windows of which looked out upon the calm blue waters
of the Mediterranean. These windows were open and through them floated
the delightful perfume of the flowers from the garden beyond, mingled
with the saline odors of the sea. It was about ten o'clock and the sun,
high in the heavens, inundated the vast apartment with its golden light
and filled it with a generous warmth.
Haydee, the wife of Monte-Cristo, reclined upon an oriental rug, her
head pillowed in the lap of Mercedes, who sat on a divan elegantly
upholstered in the eastern fashion. Mercedes was lightly toying with
Haydee's glossy hair that fell like a cloud about her shapely shoulders.
Her eyes were beaming with affection, while those of Haydee had in them
a dreamy, faraway look.
"Sister," said Mercedes 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 Haydee 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, Mercedes; 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."
Haydee made no reply, but continued to gaze dreamily into space.
Mercedes, 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?"
Haydee turned her eyes full on her companion's countenance and a look of
gratitude passed over her pale visage. She saw that Mercedes 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.
"I will tell you," said she, "here in this apartment where everything,
even to the very air, is vital with souvenirs of my beloved husband."
And, without altering her position, Haydee at once commenced the
following thrilling narration:
"We were cruising off the coast of Egypt in the Alcyon, when the idea of
visiting Constantinople suddenly occurred to Monte-Cristo. He gave his
orders without an instant's delay and the yacht was immediately headed
for the Sultan's dominions.
"We reached Constantinople in due time, after an exceedingly pleasant
voyage, for though it was toward the close of spring the weather was
mild and for weeks the sea had been as calm and unruffled as a mirror.
"As we entered the Bosporus, we noticed a strange craft hovering near
us. It was a small, rakish-looking vessel bearing the Turkish flag.
Monte-Cristo had run up his private ensign on the Alcyon, an ensign that
was recognized by all nations and gave the yacht free entrance into
every port.
"The strange craft seemed to be following us, but as it made no attempt
to approach the yacht, we soon became used to its presence and ceased to
give it attention.
"When the Alcyon anchored, a gorgeously decorated caique, manned by a
score of stalwart oarsmen, shot from shore and was soon alongside of the
yacht. A magnificently-appareled old man with a long, snowy beard,
attended by four solemn and stately eunuchs, came on board and was
ceremoniously received by the Count. It was the Grand Vizier, who,
having recognized Monte-Cristo's ensign, had hastened to welcome the
illustrious hero to Constantinople in the name of his august master, the
Sultan.
"Such an honor merited prompt and becoming recognition, and Monte-Cristo
was too much of a Frenchman not to return compliment for compliment.
Leaving the Alcyon in charge of his first officer, and bidding me a
hasty and tender farewell, the Count entered the caique with the Grand
Vizier and departed to pay his respects in person to the ruler of the
Turkish nation.
"No sooner was the caique lost to sight among the shipping than the
strange craft we had previously observed suddenly ran up to the yacht
and made fast to her with grappling-irons. Before Monte-Cristo's men
could recover from their surprise at this manoeuvre they were made
prisoners and securely bound by twenty Turkish buccaneers, who had
leaped over the bulwarks of the Alcyon, headed by a villainous-looking
wretch, furiously brandishing a jeweled yataghan. This was Ali Pasha,
the slave-dealer, as I soon learned to my cost.
"When the ruffians boarded the yacht, I had rushed below and hidden
myself in Monte-Cristo's cabin, first securing a keen-bladed dagger for
my defence.
"I had locked the door, but it was almost instantly burst open and Ali
Pasha leaped in, followed by several of his crew.
"Holding my weapon uplifted in my hand, I cried out, in a tone of
desperate determination:
"'The first scoundrel who dares to lay a finger on me shall die like a
dog!'
"This speech was greeted with a loud burst of contemptuous laughter, and
Ali Pasha himself, springing forward, whirled the dagger from my grasp
with his yataghan. This done, he sternly fixed his glance upon me and
said:
"'Haydee, wife of Monte-Cristo, Haydee, the Greek slave, you are my
captive! Sons of Islam, seize her and conduct her to the slave mart of
Stamboul!'
"Three Turks advanced to obey this command. They seized me and in vain
did I struggle in their ruffianly grasp. In a moment I was securely
bound and gagged. A mantle was thrown over my head. I felt myself thrust
into a sack and swooned just as one of the buccaneers was lifting me
upon his shoulder.
"When I recovered consciousness, I found myself, with a number of
half-clad Georgian and Circassian girls, in the dreaded slave bazaar of
Constantinople. Old memories, fraught with terror, rushed upon me. I
recalled the time when I was before exposed for sale and Monte-Cristo
had bought me. Would he come to my rescue once more? I scarcely dared to
hope for such a thing. I pictured to myself the Count's desolation and
distress on discovering that I had been stolen from him. But what could
he do? How could he find me again? And even should he discover me, how
could he snatch me from the grasp of Ali Pasha, whose favor with the
Sultan was notorious? Monte-Cristo, with all his prestige, was but one
man, and no match for the mendaciousness, duplicity and power of the
entire Turkish court! I was lost, and nothing could save me!
"How shall I describe my feelings when I realized that I was even then,
at that very moment, exposed for sale, that from being the free and
honored wife of Monte-Cristo I had suddenly become a mere article of
human merchandise, valued simply at so many miserable piastres! My fate
hung upon a thread. Would I be purchased by some grandee as a new
ornament for his harem, or was I destined to fall into the hands of a
brutal master, to be used as a household drudge for the execution of
bitter and revolting tasks?
"When each new purchaser entered the bazaar I trembled from head to
foot, I quivered in every limb. One by one I saw the unfortunate
Georgian and Circassian girls inspected and disposed of, until at last I
was the only slave unsold in the entire mart. I thought my turn must
speedily come, that the next Mussulman who entered would surely buy me,
and I had firmly resolved upon suicide at the first opportunity,
choosing death rather than slavery.
"Ali Pasha had personally conducted all the visitors about the bazaar,
dilating in the extravagant oriental fashion upon the extraordinary
merits of the captives he wished to turn into money. Many times he had
paused before me where I stood cowering in a corner, volubly expatiating
on my value and attractiveness, but hitherto not a single Turk had
evinced the slightest inclination to relieve him of me.
"At last two men made their appearance and eagerly glanced around the
mart. Both wore turbans and full Turkish dress. Their faces were
shrouded with heavy beards, and there was an indescribable something
about them that stamped them as personages of exalted rank.
"They paused a short distance from me, and one of them said, addressing
Ali Pasha:
"'What is the name of yonder slave?'
"'Zuleika,' answered the obsequious and unscrupulous slave-dealer.
"'From what country is she and how did you obtain possession of her?'
asked the second visitor, who had not yet spoken. His voice was subdued
and evidently disguised; nevertheless there was something familiar in
its tone that strangely stirred me and filled me with hope.
"Ali Pasha replied to his inquiry with unblushing effrontery:
"'The slave is from Circassia, and was sold to me by her parents.'
"I know not how I obtained the courage to do so, but instantly I cried
out:
"'All that vile wretch has said is false! My name is Haydee, and I am
the wife of the Count of Monte-Cristo! Ali Pasha forcibly abducted me
from my husband's yacht that now lies in the harbor of Constantinople!'
"'Ali Pasha,' said the first speaker, 'this is a grave accusation! It is
true that the illustrious Monte-Cristo's yacht now lies in the harbor of
Stamboul, and such an abduction as this slave has mentioned did,
indeed, take place.'
"The slave-dealer winced slightly, but, instantly recovering himself,
calmly answered:
"'I know nothing of Monte-Cristo, his yacht or his wife. As for this
lying slave, I will punish her on the spot!'
"With these words he advanced toward me and lifted his clenched fist to
strike. I shrank tremblingly against the wall, but the next instant a
blow that would have felled an ox had hurled Ali Pasha to the stone
floor of the bazaar. It was delivered by the man whose voice had seemed
familiar to me, and, tearing off his beard, my husband, the undaunted
Count of Monte-Cristo himself, caught me in his arms and folded me to
his breast!
"Ali Pasha had now arisen to his feet. Livid with rage he rushed at
Monte-Cristo with a dagger in his hand, swearing by the Prophet that he
would have his heart's blood. But the other visitor caught his arm and
held him back.
"'Who are you and why do you stand between me and my just revenge?'
cried the slave-dealer, furiously.
"The stranger threw open his robe, and on his breast gleamed a
diamond-studded crescent.
"'The Grand Vizier!' exclaimed Ali Pasha, prostrating himself before the
high official. The latter clapped his hands, whereupon six soldiers
marched into the bazaar.
"'Seize that wretch!' he cried, pointing to the slave-dealer, 'and
inflict upon him the punishment of the bastinado!'
"When this order had been executed, the Grand Vizier, placing himself at
the head of the soldiers, escorted Monte-Cristo and myself to the harbor
and saw us safely on board the royal caique.
"In due time we reached the yacht, where the officers and crew were at
their posts as usual.
"After his interview with the Sultan, Monte-Cristo, accompanied by the
Grand Vizier, had returned to the Alcyon in the caique. To his
astonishment he found his men lying on the deck tightly bound. On
releasing them he learned what had happened, and his influence was
sufficient to induce the Grand Vizier, who was greatly affected by the
Count's despair when he discovered the terrible fate that had befallen
me, to risk the Sultan's displeasure by aiding him to recover me from
the clutches of Ali Pasha.
"Such," concluded Haydee, "was the manner in which Monte-Cristo rescued
me from the hands of the villainous Turkish slave-dealer and a fate
worse than death."
"Sister," said Mercedes, "no wonder you love Monte-Cristo so devotedly,
for he is one of the noblest and most heroic men upon this earth!"