The Count of Monte Cristo

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now placed at the command of Mercedes by the count.

The woman whom the count had seen leave the ship with so much regret
entered this house; she had scarcely closed the door after her when
Monte Cristo appeared at the corner of a street, so that he found and
lost her again almost at the same instant. The worn out steps were old
acquaintances of his; he knew better than any one else how to open that
weather-beaten door with the large headed nail which served to raise
the latch within. He entered without knocking, or giving any other
intimation of his presence, as if he had been a friend or the master
of the place. At the end of a passage paved with bricks, was a little
garden, bathed in sunshine, and rich in warmth and light. In this garden
Mercedes had found, at the place indicated by the count, the sum of
money which he, through a sense of delicacy, had described as having
been placed there twenty-four years previously. The trees of the garden
were easily seen from the steps of the street-door. Monte Cristo, on
stepping into the house, heard a sigh that was almost a deep sob; he