The Count of Monte Cristo

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of her countenance at once charmed and horrified him. As to Haidee,
these terrible reminiscences seemed to have overpowered her for a
moment, for she ceased speaking, her head leaning on her hand like a
beautiful flower bowing beneath the violence of the storm; and her eyes
gazing on vacancy indicated that she was mentally contemplating the
green summit of the Pindus and the blue waters of the lake of Yanina,
which, like a magic mirror, seemed to reflect the sombre picture
which she sketched. Monte Cristo looked at her with an indescribable
expression of interest and pity.

"Go on," said the count in the Romaic language.

Haidee looked up abruptly, as if the sonorous tones of Monte Cristo's
voice had awakened her from a dream; and she resumed her narrative.
"It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and although the day was
brilliant out-of-doors, we were enveloped in the gloomy darkness of the
cavern. One single, solitary light was burning there, and it appeared