He was a fine, tall, slim young fellow, with black eyes, and hair as dark as the raven's wing; and his whole appearance bespoke that calmness and resolution peculiar to men accustomed from their cradle to contend with danger.
You are my son Dantes! You are the child of my captivity. My priestly office condemned me to celibacy: God sent you to me both to console the man who could not be a father and the prisoner who could not be free
She is not my mistress,' replied the young sailor gravely, 'she is my betrothed.' 'Sometimes one and the same thing,' said Morrel, with a smile. 'Not with us, sir,' replied Dantes.