Cap in hand, the Zouave appeared, and, throwing an inquisitive glance at the count, he said politely:

"What is your pleasure, madame?"

"Dear friend," was the kind reply of Monte-Cristo, "madame has called you, because I intend to ask you a few questions; I know you love your captain, and therefore—"

"Well, I do love him," replied Coucou, enthusiastically. "I am ready to be cut in pieces for him."

"With that we need not make any haste," said Monte-Cristo, smiling. "You believe then that Captain Joliette is still alive?"

"Yes, colonel."

"I am no colonel," said the count.

"Then I must say general?"

"That is unnecessary—I am in no way a soldier."

"But that is hardly possible," cried Coucou, disappointed; "such a nice brave gentleman, and not a soldier?"

"I cannot help you; but now tell me plainly whether you can render me any assistance in finding the captain?"

"A thousand times, marshal, or as otherwise your title may be. You see, sir, I am a man of few words, but if you demand my heart's blood, it is at your service—the Jackal Coucou always keeps his word."

Monte-Cristo smiled—the man suited him.

"Sit down here next to me," he said, in a friendly manner, "and tell me all you know."

"To seat myself—no, that would be disrespectful; I shall remain standing; and now question me."

"Just as you like. Since when has the captain disappeared, and what do you know concerning him?"

"Accurately I cannot point out the time. On the last day of December, Abd-el-Kader, of whom so much is said, and who, I must here remark, much resembles you—"

"Quite a compliment," smilingly said the count, bowing.

"For Abd-el-Kader," interrupted Coucou, promptly. "Well, then, after Abd-el-Kader laid down his arms, subdued by Generals Lamoriciere and Cavaignac, we thought the war was ended; but God forbid, it had commenced in earnest. In confidence, sir, I believe in Algiers you will never hear of its end. That the Jackals at the affair played their game well is too well known; it was they who checked Abd-el-Kader.

"Well, on one occasion, we undertook a trifling skirmish, in order to send out some scouts; we had about twenty men, and Captain Joliette led us. 'Comrades,' he said, 'before we start, let us finally take care that the cursed Africans leave us at peace in future!' and then he called my name—you must know he had always a little order for me to execute—"

"I conclude therefrom, that you found an opportunity to render him a service once," interrupted the count, in a friendly manner.

"H'm—the marshal knows his people," nodded the sergeant, proudly; "it was, in fact, but a trifle—a brown devil brandished his yataghan at the captain, and I cut off his hand to prevent the execution of his plan. Now, the captain also called:

"'Sergeant Coucou!'

"'Here,' said I.

"'Coucou,' he commenced, quietly, 'one never knows how these skirmishes may end, and for the sake of life and death listen to me. Behold—I have yet a mother—she lives in Marseilles, in the Allee de Meillan, and is called Madame Joliette. In case something should befall me, demand a furlough, go to France and deliver this ring to my mother.'"

"A ring?" said Monte-Cristo, wonderfully moved, while he cast a hasty glance at Mercedes.

In a gloomy manner, but without saying a single word, Mercedes took a simple-looking silver ring from her finger, and handed it to the count, who looked at the simple precious thing with a tear in his eye—it was the wedding-ring which Edmond Dantes once presented to the Catalan, Mercedes.

"Pardon, Edmond," stammered the poor mother, with trembling voice, "I gave Albert the ring as a talisman—it was to bring him back!"

"I would not take the ring," continued Coucou. "I knew that nobody would so easily kill the captain, and if misfortune should come to pass, it may, just the same, fall on me as well. But my refusing it was in vain, and so I consented to it. Discipline goes above all! We started and soon reached the defile; not a Bedouin could be discovered, and only a few distant barren rocks looked rather suspicious. Night set in: we thought of preparing our supper, but suddenly a curious noise could be heard, and the next moment we were surrounded by a swarm of Bedouins. A desperate combat began—the shots, following in quick succession, were enough to rouse the dead; but continually fresh combatants appeared, and we had trouble enough to fight for our lives. Upon a bare rock I suddenly espied a Bedouin, who had the barrel of his musket—God knows from whom he had stolen it—just pointed at the captain. I made a leap, reached the rock, and took hold of the brown devil, but at that very moment both of us tumbled down more than twenty feet, and I became senseless."

"But the captain?" asked the count.

"Only a little patience, you will know all I know. When I awoke again, it was just the dawn of day—how it happened that I did not break my neck is to me even now inexplicable. I looked about for my comrades; they ought to have been in the neighborhood. I called out—everything remained quiet; and thus I rose with painful limbs and reached the place where we had encamped. Here a terrible sight met me; before me lay all my comrades, bleeding and mutilated—they had all been beheaded! Even to this day I feel the terrible horror which overcame me at this sight—a dark pool of blood surrounded the rigid bodies, and if I were to live to see a hundred years, never shall I forget the awful spectacle.

"After a while I began to look about among the various bodies, and suddenly, in all my distress, I rejoiced aloud—the captain was not among the slain. Had the Bedouins carried him away? I called out. And only the hoarse cry of the hyena, which waited solely for my departure to fall upon the corpses, was the answer I received. I could not attempt to bury my comrades, for the ground was rocky and I possessed no tools for that purpose. I spoke a short prayer for the slain, supplied myself from their knapsacks with plentiful ammunition, and got back to the camp as well as I could.

"When I related there what had happened, nobody at first would believe me—they reproached me with cowardice and scolded me for having left my comrades! I became vexed; I demanded a detachment to accompany me and returned to the scene of horror. There a still more horrible sight met me—the animals of the desert had already eaten the corpses, and only bloody bones and portions of uniforms indicated the spot where the surprise had taken place. Now, of course, they all were ready to believe me; we sent out scouts to all sides in order to obtain traces of the captain. Large amounts were offered to Arabian deserters if they would deliver up their prisoners, but to no purpose; the earth seemingly must have swallowed up our captain. Only once I thought I had found some trace of him: a marabout—one of those brawny devils who are regarded as sorcerers by their countrymen—came to our camp to beg, or as we supposed as a spy. An officer inquired of the man in my presence about Captain Joliette, but he pretended to know nothing, saying he had never heard the name, yet his eyes betrayed his treachery—oh, these Kabyles are all desperate fellows, scoundrels of the worst description."

"Did you communicate your opinion to the officer?" inquired the count.

"Certainly; he at first laughed at me, and when he at last resolved upon the man being called a second time, he had already disappeared."

"What was the name of the marabout?"

"If I recollect aright it was Elak Achel, or something like it."

"Can you describe his appearance—had he bony cheeks, large, projecting ears, and a long, pointed beard?"

"Truly, I could almost believe the marshal must have seen the scamp," said Coucou, quite astonished.

"Ah, no, I only guessed at it. I know some races in the desert which correspond to the description you give. But another question: does it sound perhaps like Radjel el Achem?"

"Sapristi, that was the name! And now as we know his name, we will soon find him again," said Coucou, quite delighted.

Mercedes rose, encouraged by fresh hopes, but Monte-Cristo put his hand softly upon her arm and said:

"Mercedes, beware of being deceived. The words I have just spoken signify nothing—nothing but 'great sorcerer,' and are the general appellation of the people who operate in the south of the Algeric Sahara."

The words which Monte-Cristo quietly spoke did not fail to take effect upon Mercedes. She dropped her hands and stared sorrowfully through the window.

"Is that all you know?"—the count turned toward the Zouave.

"Unfortunately, no more," said Coucou. At the same time, however, being noticed by Mercedes, he made a sign and placed his finger upon the lips.

"In order to fulfil my promise," continued the Zouave, "I took a furlough and came to France. I had scarcely arrived in Paris when I was ordered to this place. I brought Madame Joliette the ring, and told her what I had experienced. Alas! if I could only find our captain again; but, I am afraid, it is almost impossible."

"Impossible!" called out Mercedes, throwing a supplicating look at the count.

"Sergeant Coucou," said Monte-Cristo, with earnest mien, "a man should never speak of impossibilities. I have often accomplished things which others thought impossible."

"Yes, if you, as our commander, would take the matter in hand, that would be quite a different thing," thought the Zouave, confidently.

"Well then, I shall do my best."

"Hurrah!—is it not so, I'm allowed to call you commander?"

"But I have already told you—"

"Let me only say so, and if you wish to oblige me, call me simply Coucou, and all will be well."

"I shall consider the matter. Now go down and wait for me in the street, I shall be there almost immediately."

"At your service, commander," said the Zouave, putting his hand to his cap, whereupon he left.

"Well?" inquired Mercedes, when alone with the count.

"Mercedes," said Monte-Cristo, with sincerity, "do not despair. All my energy shall be devoted toward finding your son, and perhaps God will be merciful."

"I will believe it and not give way to despair."

"Then farewell, Mercedes! We will soon meet again. Now I am ready to look for Beauchamp, who, as I have heard, is again in Marseilles."

A knock interrupted the count—the door was quietly opened and a clear voice inquired:

"Are you alone, dear mother?"

Receiving a wink from the count, Mercedes said:

"Yes, Clary, you may enter."

The young English lady skipped over the threshold, but she stood still and blushed as soon as she saw the stranger.

"My dear little friend," said Mercedes, presenting the girl, "keeps me company in my desolation, and thus helps me to pass away many a weary hour."

The count bowed respectfully, whereupon he extended his hand to Mercedes and went away.

"Who is the gentleman?" asked Clary, as soon as the door closed behind Monte-Cristo.

"The Count of Monte-Cristo," said Mercedes.

"Was he the person whom you expected?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then be of good cheer," said Clary, putting her tiny hand upon her heaving breast; "something tells me that this man is almighty! Hope, Mother Mercedes—hope!"