"'To whom, then?'—'To your new master.'
"'Who and where is he?'—'He is here.'
"And Koorshid pointed out one who had more than any contributed to the death of my father," said Haidee, in a tone of chastened anger.
"Then," said Albert, "you became the property of this man?"
"No," replied Haidee, "he did not dare to keep us, so we were sold to some slave-merchants who were going to Constantinople.
We traversed Greece, and arrived half dead at the imperial gates.
They were surrounded by a crowd of people, who opened a way for us to pass, when suddenly my mother, having looked closely at an object which was attracting their attention, uttered a piercing cry and fell to the ground, pointing as she did so to a head which was placed over the gates, and beneath which were inscribed these words:
"'This is the head of Ali Tepelini Pasha of Yanina.'
I cried bitterly, and tried to raise my mother from the earth, but she was dead!
I was taken to the slave-market, and was purchased by a rich Armenian.
He caused me to be instructed, gave me masters, and when I was thirteen years of age he sold me to the Sultan Mahmood."
"Of whom I bought her," said Monte Cristo, "as I told you, Albert, with the emerald which formed a match to the one I had made into a box for the purpose of holding my hashish pills."
"Oh, you are good, you are great, my lord!" said Haidee, kissing the count's hand, "and I am very fortunate in belonging to such a master!"
Albert remained quite bewildered with all that he had seen and heard.
"Come, finish your cup of coffee," said Monte Cristo; "the history is ended."