He strove to appear calm, but could not control his emotion. "Nearer, nearer, Edmond," said Haydee, growing weaker and weaker. The Count sank on his knees beside his dying wife and put his arms about her neck. "Oh! Haydee, Haydee," he sobbed; "thrice accursed be the infamous wretch who has done this!" "Edmond, my children, farewell," gasped Haydee; "I am going to a better land!" The death rattle was in her throat; she raised herself with a mighty effort, gazed lovingly at her husband and children, and strove to speak again, but could not; then a flickering shade of violet passed over her countenance, and she fell back dead. Esperance and Zuleika stood as if stunned; Monte-Cristo was overwhelmed with grief and despair. "The whole palace is in flames! Save yourselves, save yourselves!" cried a fisherman, rushing into the library, followed by his companions, Ali and the servants. Monte-Cristo leaped to his feet, seizing the corpse of Haydee and raising it in his arms. Ali grasped Esperance and Zuleika, and the entire party hastened from the burning edifice. They were not an instant too soon, for as they quitted the library the tempest of fire burst into it, accompanied by torrents of smoke. The fishermen and servants, commanded by the Nubian, had made every effort to save the doomed mansion, but in vain. Monte-Cristo and his children found refuge in the hut of Alexis, to which Haydee's body was reverently borne. The wife of Monte-Cristo was buried on the Island of Salmis, and over her remains her husband erected a massive monument. Shortly afterwards the Count, Esperance and Zuleika, attended by the faithful Ali, quitted the Island and took passage on a vessel bound for France. CHAPTER IV. THE NEWS FROM ALGERIA. Beauchamp, the journalist, sat at his desk in his editorial sanctum early one bright morning in the autumn of 1841. He had gone to work long before his usual hour, for important movements were on foot, the political atmosphere was agitated and Paris was in a state of feverish excitement; besides, Beauchamp had that day printed in his journal a dispatch from Algeria that would be certain to cause a great sensation, and, with the proper spirit of pride, the journalist desired to be at his post that he might receive the numerous congratulations his friends could not fail to offer, as the dispatch had appeared in his paper alone. The sanctum had not an attractive look; in fact, it was rather dilapidated, while, in addition, the disorder occasioned by the previous night's work had not been repaired, and all was chaos and confusion. Beauchamp was busily engaged in glancing over the rival morning papers when Lucien Debray entered and seated himself at another desk. The Ministerial Secretary smiled upon the journalist in a knowing way, and the latter, nodding to him with an air of triumph, silently pointed to the pile of journals he had finished examining. Lucien took them up, and without a word began scanning their contents.