"One who served you in the past, oh! Dr. Absalom," replied Monte-Cristo, also using the language of Italy, "and who now solicits a service of you in return. Remember the mob of Athens and the Frank who interposed to save you from destruction!"
The old man lowered his lamp and held it close to his famous visitor's face; then he joyfully exclaimed: "Welcome, Edmond Dantès, Count of Monte-Cristo! Welcome to the abode of your devoted servant Israel Absalom! Whatever he can do to serve you shall be done, no matter at what cost!"
Then, for the first time, he observed that the Count was not alone and fixed his keen eyes on M. Morrel with a look of suspicion and inquiry.
"One of my dearest friends, M. Maximilian Morrel, Captain in the Army of France," said Monte-Cristo, in answer to this look. "You can have as full confidence in him as in me."
Dr. Absalom bowed profoundly to M. Morrel, and without another word led the way to an inner apartment. It was a vast chamber, closed like the front of the house, brilliantly illuminated by a huge chandelier suspended from the ceiling in which burned twenty wax candles of various hues. The room was provided with all the apparatus and paraphernalia of a chemist's laboratory of modern days, also containing many strange instruments and machines such as aided the researches and labors of the old-time disciples of alchemy.
In the centre of the apartment stood a vast table covered with gigantic parchment-bound tomes and rolls of yellow manuscript. Behind this table was a huge, high-backed chair of elaborate antique workmanship resembling the throne of some Asiatic sovereign of the remote past. In this chair the physician seated himself after having installed his visitors each upon a commodious and comfortable Turkish divan.
Maximilian noticed that the floor of the room was covered with soft and elegant Persian rugs and that the walls were hung with exquisitely beautiful tapestry. Monte-Cristo had warned him to prepare to be greatly surprised, but Dr. Absalom's lavish display of wealth, luxury and taste in the midst of the filthy, dilapidated Ghetto, nevertheless, absolutely stunned him. The Count had also cautioned him not to speak without his permission--a useless injunction, for the young Frenchman was too much amazed to utter a syllable.
After seating himself the Hebrew sage, who seemed to be a man of business as well as of science, requested the Count to state in what he could serve him. Thereupon Monte-Cristo succinctly related the history of the Viscount Massetti, told of his mental malady, his confinement in the insane asylum and ended by asking the physician if he could and would cure him.