Notes

The Count of Monte-Cristo enters Parisian high society. He often goes to the theatre in the company of a beautiful young woman. This young woman is Greek and her name is Haydée. She lives with the count, her protector, in a secluded apartment, composed of a living room and two rooms and furnished in the oriental way.

That morning, the Count will pay a visit to Haydée. When he enters his apartment, he finds her lying on cushions, adopting the natural pose of the women of the Orient.

'Haydée,' said he, my sweet child, 'I come to you today to remind you that we are now in France and that, therefore, you are free to go out as you wish, to do whatever you want.

"And what do you want me to do?"

"You can leave me."

'Leave you!' and why should I leave you?

"To know the world."

"I don’t want to see anyone."

"But you could meet a handsome young man and..."

'I have never found men more beautiful than you, and I have never loved than you and my father.

'Poor child,' said Monte Cristo, 'is that you have not had the opportunity to speak with men other than your father and I.'

'Well, do I need to speak to others? My father called me his joy, and you call me your love, isn’t that enough?'

'Do you remember your father, Haydée? The girl smiled.

'He is there and there,' she said, putting her hand on his eyes and on his heart.

"Where am I?" asked Monte Cristo, smiling.
'You,' she said, 'are everywhere.

– Now, Haydée, he said, you know that you are free: you can leave your oriental costume, live your fantasy, go out and go wherever you want. Ali will serve you and be at your command. I ask you one thing, please.

"Say.

'Keep the secret of your birth, don’t say a word of your past: never speak the name of your illustrious father or your poor mother.

'I told you, Lord, I will not see anyone.

– Listen, Haydée, go out and learn the life of our northern countries, like you did when we were in Italy. It will always serve you, whether you continue to live here or return to the East.

The young girl raised her big eyes wet with tears on the count and replied:

'Or that we should return to the East, is that it, my lord?'

– Yes, my daughter, says Monte Cristo; you know very well that I will never leave you. It is not the tree that leaves the flower, it is the flower that leaves the tree.

'I will never leave you, Lord,' said Haydée, 'for I am sure that I cannot live without you.