M. Dantes ceased and, closing his eyes wearily, continued to think over the possibilities of the future. As he sat there motionless and seemingly asleep, a light footfall was heard in the apartment and his daughter stood before him. Zuleika was now sixteen, tall and matured beyond her years; she greatly resembled her dead mother, Haydee, the beautiful Greek, and the half-oriental costume she wore helped to render the resemblance still more striking; her abundant hair was the hue of the raven's wing, her feet and hands were those of a fairy, while her large and expressive eyes flashed like diamonds, and her parted lips, as red as rubies, disclosed perfect teeth of the whiteness of pearls. A shade of anxiety settled upon her handsome countenance as she bent over her weary father. The Deputy opened his eyes and glanced at her. "Why are you up so late, my child?" he asked, fondly. "I thought you were sleeping soundly long ere this." "I was waiting for you, papa," replied Zuleika, in a low, musical voice, that sounded like a chime of tiny bells; "I could not retire to my couch while you were toiling." M. Dantes pointed to a stool; the young girl brought it and seated herself at his feet; he drew her to his knee, smoothing her tresses gently and affectionately. "So you would not desert me, darling?" he said, with a glad smile. "No, indeed, dear papa," answered she, nestling closer to him. "Will you always love me as you do now, Zuleika?" asked the father, looking down into the liquid depths of her eyes. "Oh! papa, what a question, what a singular question!" said the girl, springing to her feet, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing him again and again. "But love of another kind and for another will come along after awhile," said the Deputy sadly, "and then you will forget your father." Zuleika blushed and hung her head in maidenly modesty; then she exclaimed: "No, no, papa; never will I forget you whatever may happen!" "Ah! my darling, you know not what you are saying; it is only natural for a woman to cast her father aside and cleave unto her husband." "But, papa, I have not even a lover yet, and, besides, I am not a woman; I am merely a little girl and your own, true, loving daughter." "Yes, yes, but you must remember that last year, young as you were then, you attracted marked attention from several youthful Romans of the best families in the Eternal City, and that one of them, the Viscount Giovanni Massetti, went so far as to ask me for your hand." At the mention of Massetti's name the blush upon Zuleika's cheek deepened. She trembled slightly, but said nothing; her heart fluttered painfully, but the pain was not altogether disagreeable. The young Viscount was evidently not unpleasing to her. M. Dantes resumed, looking at her fixedly the while: