The Count of Monte Cristo

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not say I was a stranger to you. I know well, demon, that you have
penetrated into the darkness of the past, and that you have read, by the
light of what torch I know not, every page of my life; but perhaps I
may be more honorable in my shame than you under your pompous coverings.
No--no, I am aware you know me; but I know you only as an adventurer
sewn up in gold and jewellery. You call yourself in Paris the Count of
Monte Cristo; in Italy, Sinbad the Sailor; in Malta, I forget what. But
it is your real name I want to know, in the midst of your hundred names,
that I may pronounce it when we meet to fight, at the moment when I
plunge my sword through your heart."

The Count of Monte Cristo turned dreadfully pale; his eye seemed to
burn with a devouring fire. He leaped towards a dressing-room near his
bedroom, and in less than a moment, tearing off his cravat, his coat
and waistcoat, he put on a sailor's jacket and hat, from beneath which
rolled his long black hair. He returned thus, formidable and implacable,
advancing with his arms crossed on his breast, towards the general,