When the hated Austrian uniforms appeared in the brilliantly lighted streets, a threatening noise was uttered by the mob, and the students who surrounded Luciola's carriage threw themselves upon the officers.

It was a foolish beginning, for they had no weapons—they only possessed burning patriotism, and their hatred of the foreign oppressor.

A shot now fell, and at the same time the tall form of Count San Pietro loomed up, giving commands to the soldiers to make the attack—an attack against a defenceless crowd of human beings. As soon as the students heard the shot, they surrounded the carriage of the diva again. The latter tried to encourage the trembling Milla. As for herself, she had no fear, and though she could not understand Aslitta's absence, she was far from imagining the truth.

Suddenly San Pietro's repulsive features appeared at the carriage window, and Luciola's heart ceased beating.

Had he betrayed Aslitta?

The count had arranged things well. Narrower and narrower grew the circle about the patriots, and the students tried in vain to draw the carriage away from the soldiers.

"Luciola," said the count, maliciously, "do you still think you can escape me?"

Luciola drew herself up, and casting a look of contempt at the count, she cried, in loud, clear tones:

"Miserable coward!"

San Pietro uttered a cry of rage, and lifted his sword aloof.

Luciola looked coolly at him; not a muscle of her fine face quivered, but her hand grasped the jewelled hilt of a dagger.

She did not intend to fall into the villain's hands alive.

Suddenly, above the roar of the multitude, a voice thundered:

"Benedetto! Murderer! Escaped galley slave—beware! God cannot be mocked at! Shame over you!"

And as these words were heard, Count San Pietro, the favorite of Radetzky, tremblingly looked in the direction from whence the words came, and which sounded to him like the call of the judgment day. On the pedestal of a marble statue opposite to him stood the man he had recognized at the Scala, who pointed threateningly at him, and Benedetto, wild with rage, pulled a pistol from his pocket and fired at Monte-Cristo. When the smoke cleared away, Monte-Cristo still stood there; at the same time the crowd separated in the centre, and two harnessed horses were shoved in front of Luciola's carriage. How it happened no one knew—in an instant the traces were fastened to the shafts, the negro who sat on the box whipped up the horses, and in a second the carriage rolled away.

The shots fired after them did not reach them, and in a few minutes they had disappeared.

"Death and thunder," hissed Benedetto, "this one at least shall not escape me"; and foaming with rage, he threw himself upon the count.

The latter let him come. Benedetto put the muzzle of his pistol to the count's breast, but at the same moment the iron arm of the latter had clutched the scoundrel by the throat, and with a hoarse laugh Benedetto let his weapon fall and sank upon his knees. Quick as thought the count seized the weapon, and placing it against Benedetto's forehead, said in a loud, clear voice:

"All you people who are with this villain whom you call Count San Pietro ought, at least, to know whom your ally is. Listen attentively, gentlemen. The man to whom you bend the knee is an escaped galley slave—he murdered his mother!"

A cry of horror came from the lips of the crowd, and the Croatians, whose roughness was proverbial, turned with horror from the scoundrel.

Monte-Cristo threw the pistol on the ground, and, getting down from the pedestal, he walked slowly through the lines of the retreating soldiers.

As soon as Benedetto felt himself free he sprang up, and, turning to the crowd, he hissed:

"Do not believe him, he lied; he is an enemy of Austria! How will you be able to look Marshal Radetzky in the face, if you allow him to escape?"

The name of Radetzky acted like magic upon the soldiers. They turned pale and rushed in pursuit of Monte-Cristo.

They had caught up to the count, when he suddenly vanished from their gaze. To the bystanders it seemed as if a wall had opened to give him protection.

But soon the riddle was solved. The wall through which the Count of Monte-Cristo had escaped belonged to the Vertelli house, and all the officers knew that the building contained several secret passages.

"Follow me," said Benedetto, angrily, entering the Casino.

On the threshold Major Bartolomeo met him. Benedetto grasped the old veteran by the throat, and shaking him like a leaf, he exclaimed:

"Wretch, you have betrayed us; but you shall pay for it!"

"I," stammered the major, "I—am—innocent."

"Oh, no deception. I know you. How long is it since you called yourself Cavalcanti, and played the part of my father? Come, men, take this man prisoner. I will report to the marshal about it."