Up to this time the weather had been of the most delightful description. Not a cloud had obscured the sky, and during the entire voyage the unruffled surface of the Mediterranean had resembled that of some peaceful lake. It was now the tenth of October, and just cool enough to be pleasant; the spice-laden breezes from the coast of Africa reached the yacht tempered by the moist atmosphere of the sea, furnishing an additional element of enjoyment. The Count of Monte-Cristo and Haydee, who seemed inseparable, came on deck every morning at dawn, and each evening walked back and forth, admiring the gorgeous sunset and watching the shades of night as they gradually settled down upon the wide expanse of the waters. It required no unusual penetration to see that they were lovers and that their delight in each other's society was unalloyed. Haydee clung to the Count, who, with his arm wound about her slender waist, looked down into the liquid depths of her eyes with a smile of perfect content, while his free hand ever and anon toyed with her night-black tresses. One evening as they were walking thus--it was the evening of the fifteenth of October, and Crete was distant but two days' sail--Monte-Cristo tenderly took Haydee's hand in his and said to her in a tone of ineffable softness: "Haydee, do you remember what you said to me on the Isle of Monte-Cristo just before we parted from Valentine and Maximilian?" "Oh! yes, my lord," was the low reply. "I said I loved you as one loves a father, brother, husband--I loved you as my life." "And do you now regret those words?" "Regret them! Oh! my lord, how could I do that?" "I asked you," said the Count, slowly, "because we are nearing our destination. In two days we shall land upon the shore of Crete, and, once there, it is my intention to make you my wife, provided your feelings toward me are still unchanged. Marriage, my child, is the most important step in life, and I do not wish you to take that step without fully understanding the promptings of your own dear heart. Only misery can follow the union of two souls not in perfect accord, not entirely devoted the one to the other. I am much older than you, Haydee, and my sufferings have aged me still more than years. I am a sad and weary man. You, on the contrary, stand just upon the threshold of existence; the world and its pleasures are all before you. Think, my child, think deeply before you pronounce the irrevocable vow." Haydee threw herself passionately upon Monte-Cristo's breast. "My lord," she cried, in accents broken by extreme agitation and emotion, "am I not your slave?" "No, Haydee," answered the Count, his bosom heaving and his eyes lighting up with a strange flash, "you are free, your fate rests in your own hands."