Edmond Dantès
bound by some fearful oath not to disclose the dread secret in their
possession."
"Bound by an oath?"
"Yes, papa; but why both of them should have been so bound, unless they
were accomplices, I cannot see; I even went so far as to accuse
Esperance of complicity, whereupon he grew as white as chalk and
protested his entire innocence, and in his confusion uttered the name of
Luigi Vampa."
"Zuleika, Zuleika, you certainly misunderstood your brother; he could
not have mentioned the name of that man! Do you know who this Luigi
Vampa is?"
"Perfectly, papa; Luigi Vampa is a notorious Roman brigand."
"Exactly, my child, and therefore could not possibly have had any
dealings either with the Viscount or Esperance."
"But I am sure of the name, nevertheless. Esperance said Luigi Vampa."
M. Dantes was evidently startled; he arose to his feet and paced the
library excitedly. Zuleika had expected this, and hence was not
surprised. At last her father resumed his seat, and when he again came
within reach of the lamp's rays she saw that his visage was even more
pallid than usual and that he was not a little agitated. She waited for
him to speak, and in a few seconds he did so.
"Zuleika," said he, in a tone of decision, "I will see both the Viscount
and my son in regard to this matter, for now that Luigi Vampa seems to
have had a share in it, close investigation is imperatively demanded."
"You may interrogate them, papa, but I am convinced in advance that you
will derive no information from either of them. The strange power that
holds sway over them you cannot break, but there is one thing you can
do."
"What is that, Zuleika?"
"Write to Luigi Vampa!"
"Write to Vampa? Why should I do that?"
"Because I feel assured that he is in possession of the full details of
the terrible secret, whatever it may be, and will communicate them to
you if you ask him to do so."
M. Dantes gazed at his daughter curiously.
"What makes you think I have such influence over this Roman brigand?"
he asked, sharply.
"Oh! papa, do not be angry with me!" cried Zuleika; "but I have heard
how Vampa released the Viscount de Morcerf at your simple solicitation
without a single franc of ransom, though he had previously demanded a
very large amount from the unfortunate man as the price of his liberty.
I have heard this, and the natural inference I drew was that, if the
brigand chief went so far as to surrender his prey to you, he would
certainly answer your letter and tell you all he knew about the matter
that so closely concerns my happiness and Esperance's good name."
"I am not angry with you, my child," replied the Deputy, in a milder
tone, "for I know how deeply you have this affair at heart. I will write
to Luigi Vampa as you desire, this very night, and in two weeks at the
furthest his answer may be expected, but to-morrow I will talk with
Esperance and then will question the Viscount. Rest assured that this
matter shall be sifted to the bottom. I know the extent of your love for
Giovanni Massetti; I also feel confident that I am not deceived in him,
and that he will be amply able to prove himself entirely worthy of your
hand. I have seen too much of men, Zuleika, and studied them too deeply,
to be deceived in reading character."
"Oh! thank you, thank you ever so much, papa, both for your promise, and
your kind, encouraging words. I, too, have full faith in Giovanni, but
still I cannot rest satisfied until his record is entirely and
conclusively cleared. No one must have the power to breathe even a
suspicion against the good name of your daughter's husband!"
"Spoken like a girl of spirit!" said M. Dantes, his eyes sparkling with
enthusiasm and admiration. "Now leave me, and I will write to Vampa."
Zuleika kissed her father and quitted the library with a much lighter
heart than she had entered it.
M. Dantes, by the exercise of his iron will, had managed to control
himself in her presence, but now that she had gone he gave free course
to his emotions. For a full hour he sat leaning on his writing-table,
his frame convulsed with anguish, and his mind filled with sad
forebodings. He did not for an instant doubt that both Esperance and the
Viscount could clear themselves from any criminal or dishonorable
charge, if they would consent to open their lips, but their silence and
Zuleika's belief that they were bound by some fearful oath gave him
great uneasiness. Besides, his son had mentioned Luigi Vampa's name, and
the thought that the young man was involved in some complication with
the Roman bandit sent a chill to his heart. He was convinced that
whatever had occurred had been merely the result of the folly and
headlong disposition of youth, but this was scarcely a consolation, for
he well knew to what length young men sometimes allowed themselves to be
carried, especially in what they considered a love-affair.
In addition, the more he thought of the half-forgotten Roman scandal,
the more clearly its particulars returned to him. He remembered that a
young and handsome peasant girl had been mysteriously abducted, and that
eventually she had been brought back to her home by one of the shepherds
known to be in league with Luigi Vampa and his band. She asserted that
she had been carried off to the bandits' haunt by her youthful lover,
who had passed for a peasant lad, but was in reality a nobleman. This
was all M. Dantes could distinctly recall, though he was certain he had
heard other details that had slipped his memory. At the period of the
abduction, he now remembered, both Esperance and the Viscount were
temporarily absent from Rome; then followed their return and the quarrel
that had almost resulted in a duel, but had suddenly been patched up
without apparent reason. Had Esperance and the Viscount been concerned
in the abduction? That was a question that only they or Luigi Vampa
could answer, and it was evident the young men would not speak. Vampa
then must be made to speak for them; that was the sole course left to
pursue, for the peasant girl had disappeared immediately after her
return, and her whereabouts were a mystery.
M. Dantes drew writing materials before him and wrote his letter to the
brigand chief; it was brief, but to the point. When it was finished, it
bore the signature, "Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte-Cristo." The Deputy
placed it in the drawer of his table to go by mail the following
morning, having first folded and sealed it. "Thomson and French, Rome,"
was the direction it bore.
CHAPTER XXX.
TWO INTERVIEWS.
The morning following the events detailed in the last chapter, as
Esperance was in his dressing-room preparing to take a short stroll
through Paris, Ali knocked at the door and signified that M. Dantes
wished to see him at once in the library. As such a summons was
something unusual, the young man immediately concluded that Zuleika had
been in consultation with her father and that he would now have to
submit to a close and rigid examination; he had expected such an
examination, but, nevertheless, the summons filled him with dismay and
he grew pale as wax, his limbs trembling beneath him and his hands
working nervously; however, he braced up as well as he could, and with
as firm a step as it was possible for him to assume walked toward the
library. On the threshold he paused, and his courage so utterly forsook
him that he was tempted to take refuge in flight, but the thought
flashed through his mind that this would be cowardly, and, making a
supreme effort to control himself, he entered his father's presence.
M. Dantes, who was seated at his writing-table examining a curious
manuscript written in Arabic characters, looked up as he came in and
fixed his eyes searchingly upon his son's countenance, noting its
extreme pallor and remarking with manifest uneasiness the difficulty
Esperance experienced in maintaining a firm demeanor. Motioning the
young man to a seat, he said:
"My son, I have sent for you on a matter of the utmost importance, and I
sincerely hope you will see fit to tell me in all frankness whatever you
may know in regard to it."
Esperance partially closed his eyes as if suffering intensely, bringing
his teeth firmly together and compressing his lips. As he did not speak,
M. Dantes continued:
"I have every reason to believe that the revelation I am about to ask of
you will be exceedingly painful for you to make, but you must consider
that your sister's happiness is deeply concerned and that, for that
reason, no matter what may be your motives, you have not the right to
maintain silence."
"I know what you mean, father," replied Esperance in an unsteady voice,
"but, notwithstanding the pain it gives me to do so, I must ask you,
nay, entreat you not to question me, for I cannot answer you!"
M. Dantes cast upon his son a glance that seemed to pierce him through
and through; the young man quailed beneath it and again partially closed
his eyes, while a faint blue shade was mixed with the waxen pallor of
his visage. The Deputy, though he had made a profound and exhaustive
study of men and their varied motives, though he was a skilled anatomist
of the human heart and a ready reader of the human countenance,
acknowledged to himself that this time he was completely baffled. Was it
fear or guilt that Esperance exhibited? He could not tell; but it was
abundantly evident that the young man was not acting a part, that he
keenly felt the suspicions to which he was exposing himself by his
inexplicable conduct. At length M. Dantes said, in a mild but determined
tone:
"Esperance, my son, you can, at least, enlighten me upon a few points,
and I request, nay, I command you to do so. Are you bound by oath to
preserve silence concerning this matter?"
"I am bound by a most solemn oath!" answered the young man with a
shudder.
"And is Giovanni Massetti likewise so bound?"
"He is!"
"I will not ask you who administered that oath to you or under what
circumstances it was taken, although as your father I have a right to do
so and to compel you to answer; neither will I interrogate you further
in regard to the main question at issue, the complication in which you
and the Viscount seem to be so hopelessly involved; but I insist that
you inform me whether any guilt or stain of dishonor rests upon you!"
"Father," said Esperance, rising and lifting his right hand toward
heaven, "I solemnly swear to you that whatever wrong may have been done,
whatever crime may have been committed, I am entirely guiltless and that
there is not the slightest stain of dishonor upon me!"
"I believe you, my son," said M. Dantes, in a tone of conviction, "and
this unequivocal assurance from your own lips removes the weight of a
mountain from me. Now, tell me, is the Viscount Massetti as blameless in
this affair as you are?"
"The so-called Viscount Massetti is a black-hearted villain!" cried
Esperance, excitedly. "He is guilty of a foul and revolting crime, a
crime that should condemn him to a life of penal servitude!"
"But may you not be mistaken, may you not be the victim of some
delusion?" asked M. Dantes, anxiously.
"I am neither mistaken, father, nor the victim of a delusion," replied
Esperance, positively. "The charges that I make against that miserable
apology for a man I can fully substantiate should the proper opportunity
ever be offered me!"
"Zuleika informed me that, while you were speaking with her upon this
mysterious subject, the name of Luigi Vampa escaped your lips. Does that
notorious brigand posses a knowledge of this unfortunate matter?"
Esperance became violently agitated and instantly answered:
"That is a question my oath forbids me to reply to!"
"So be it," said M. Dantes; "but I have written him and he will reply
for you!"