The Count of Monte Cristo

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With a calm smile and a gentle wave of the hand, Monte Cristo signed to
the distracted mother to lay aside her apprehensions; then, opening
a casket that stood near, he drew forth a phial of Bohemian glass
incrusted with gold, containing a liquid of the color of blood, of which
he let fall a single drop on the child's lips. Scarcely had it reached
them, ere the boy, though still pale as marble, opened his eyes, and
eagerly gazed around him. At this, the delight of the mother was almost
frantic. "Where am I?" exclaimed she; "and to whom am I indebted for so
happy a termination to my late dreadful alarm?"

"Madame," answered the count, "you are under the roof of one who esteems
himself most fortunate in having been able to save you from a further
continuance of your sufferings."

"My wretched curiosity has brought all this about," pursued the lady.
"All Paris rung with the praises of Madame Danglars' beautiful horses,
and I had the folly to desire to know whether they really merited the