Edmond Dantès
"You have written to Vampa!" exclaimed the young man, with a
terror-stricken look. "Then all is lost!"
M. Dantes smiled, and, rising, placed his hand on his son's shoulder.
"Esperance," said he, calmly, "if neither crime nor dishonor attaches to
you in this affair, as you have sworn, you have nothing whatever to
fear, and, besides, Vampa's disclosures may relieve you of some portion
of your heavy burden."
"Oh! God!" groaned the young man, "if Vampa speaks how shall I be able
to prove my innocence!"
"My son," said M. Dantes, impressively, "God, whose name you have
invoked, will not desert you in your hour of need!"
Bowing his head in his hands and trembling like an aspen leaf, Esperance
quitted the library with a convulsive sob, as if the last ray of hope
had been withdrawn from his life and all was darkness and despair.
M. Dantes threw himself in his chair and for an instant was plunged in
absorbing thought; then he arose and putting on his hat and cloak left
the library; a few moments later he had quitted the mansion by a private
door.
Closely muffling his face in the folds of his cloak, that he might not
be recognized, the Deputy from Marseilles passed hurriedly from street
to street until he stood before a massive building in the Rue Vivienne.
He rang the bell, and, when the concierge appeared, said to her:
"Is the Viscount Massetti at home?"
The woman, a large, fat, lumbering creature, cast a sleepy glance, that
was half-curious, half-suspicious, at him and answered:
"Yes, Monsieur; but he bade me deny him to everybody."
"He will see me, however, my good woman," said M. Dantes. "Take my card
to him."
The fat concierge took the card and glanced at it; when she read "Edmond
Dantes, Deputy from Marseilles," she stared at the famous Republican
leader like one possessed; then, filled with awe, she hastened away and
climbed the stairs as fast as her cumbersome legs would let her. She
returned, panting and puffing, followed by the Viscount's valet, who,
with much ceremony and obsequiousness, conducted the distinguished
visitor to his master's apartments.
The salon into which M. Dantes was ushered was large and sumptuously
furnished; evidences of wealth and luxury were visible on every side,
while everything displayed the utmost taste and elegance.
"To what am I indebted for the honor of this unexpected visit, my dear
Count?" said Massetti, rising from a handsomely carved, red velvet
upholstered arm-chair, in which he had been indolently reclining, and
coming forward to greet his guest.
"To a matter that concerns both of us deeply," replied the Deputy, in a
meaning tone.
A shadow crossed the Viscount's handsome visage, but it was gone in an
instant, and he said, with the utmost politeness:
"Pray be seated, my dear Count, and before proceeding to business
refresh yourself with a glass of rare old Burgundy. Here, Stephano, wine
and glasses."
M. Dantes sat down in an arm-chair precisely resembling that from which
the Viscount had arisen; Massetti resumed his seat and the valet brought
the old Burgundy and glasses, placing the decanter and drinking vessels
on a small table of glistening ebony between his master and the Deputy.
After they had duly drunk each other's health, M. Dantes said:
"I regret, my dear Viscount, that I am compelled to disturb you, but my
business was too urgent for delay."
"You don't disturb me in the least. Pray proceed."
"You remember your conversation with my daughter just before you and she
parted, do you not?"
"I remember it," replied the Viscount, coloring slightly and evidently
growing ill at ease.
"In that case, neither preface nor explanation is necessary. I called to
ask you a few plain questions."
The Italian was now a prey to singular excitement; he grew pale and
flushed by turns, finally rising and pacing the salon in great
agitation.
"Count," said he, abruptly, when he could command his voice, "you are a
man of the world and a cosmopolitan, and, of course, you know that one
often commits folly, especially when the ardent and uncontrollable blood
of youth is rushing through his veins. With this explanation, imperfect
though it be, I must ask you to rest satisfied, for it is utterly out of
my power to give you any other, or to enter into the details of the
unfortunate affair which has brought you here. I assure you, however,
that I am altogether blameless in the matter; investigation will
abundantly establish the truth of what I say."
"I will make that investigation."
"I regret that I can neither empower you to do so nor aid you in it!"
"What am I to understand by that?"
"Simply what I say."
"You are, doubtless, aware that my son makes grave accusations against
you, that he accuses you, in fact, of a dastardly crime."
"Esperance is mistaken, my dear Count; I swear to you that he is
mistaken and that I am as innocent as he is!"
"But Luigi Vampa may have a different tale to tell!"
"Luigi Vampa!" cried the Viscount, coming instantly to a dead halt, and
a sudden pallor overspreading his entire visage.
"Yes, Luigi Vampa; I have written to him and in two weeks will have his
answer!"
"For Esperance's sake, for my sake, for your daughter's sake, destroy
that answer as soon as received and without reading it!" exclaimed the
young Italian, wildly, his pallor increasing to such a degree that his
face resembled that of a corpse.
"Should I be mad enough to do so," said M. Dantes, calmly, "with it all
hope of your marriage with Zuleika would perish!"
"Oh! do not say that, do not say that!" groaned Massetti. "What would
life be worth to me without Zuleika's love!"
"Then deserve that love by clearing yourself, by proving that your
record will bear the light of day!"
"I have sworn to you that I am innocent! Is not that enough?"
"No," replied M. Dantes, coldly. "I must have proof to support your
oath."
"Then you believe me guilty in spite of all! This is the worst blow
yet!"
"It is in your power to completely justify yourself; at least, so you
give me to understand, and yet your refusal will forever separate you
from the woman you love!"
"You fill me with despair!" said Massetti, in a smothered voice, sinking
upon a sofa. "I fain would reveal everything to you, but an awful oath
of silence stands between me and the revelation."
"Then I must wait for Vampa's answer, and shape my course by that!" said
M. Dantes, firmly.
"That answer will destroy both Esperance and myself!" replied the
Viscount, in a hoarse whisper.
"We shall see," returned the Deputy, rising and resuming his cloak; as
he stood at the door of the salon with his hat in his hand, he added: "I
thought you all a man should be, Viscount, and that you would make
Zuleika happy, but my convictions have been sadly shaken. I came here
thinking that love for woman was all powerful in the heart of man, that
it would induce you to speak, even in the face of an oath, perhaps
violently and iniquitously administered; I was wrong; farewell!"
M. Dantes turned slowly and took his departure, leaving Giovanni
Massetti on the sofa plunged in grief and dismay.
CHAPTER XXXI.
VAMPA'S ANSWER.
As the time for the arrival of Luigi Vampa's answer to M. Dantes' letter
approached, Esperance grew more and more uneasy and serious; he spent
the greater portion of every day from home, apparently for the purpose
of avoiding his father and sister; when he returned he was moody,
depressed and silent, and far into the night he could be heard pacing
his chamber as if unable to sleep from excitement and anxiety.
Zuleika endeavored to comfort him, but all her efforts were fruitless.
She, poor girl, was herself overwhelmed with her own distress, though
she strove to bear up against it. Massetti had neither written to nor
attempted to see her since their separation, a circumstance she could
not reconcile with his protestations of ardent love for her, and this
served vastly to augment her sadness and anguish, though she still
believed in her soul that the Viscount was entirely innocent of the
crime laid to his charge.
M. Dantes, who had plunged into politics deeper than ever since the
success of the Revolution, was frequently in consultation with the
Republican leaders, and many of them visited him at his residence and
were closeted with him for hours at a time; but, though seemingly
engrossed in State affairs, the Deputy did not lose sight of his son and
daughter, or of the mysterious complication that Vampa was expected to
make clear. Ali had strict orders to watch both Zuleika and Esperance,
and to report to his master whatever they did when at home in his
absence, but the faithful Nubian found nothing amiss, save that the
young people seemed burdened with a sorrow he could not fathom.
At length, when the two weeks that it would take to hear from Rome had
expired, M. Lamartine called one morning at the mansion in the Rue du
Helder, and having finished his business with M. Dantes was invited by
his host to remain to lunch. The repast was served in the
salle-a-manger, Esperance and Zuleika partaking of it with their father
and his illustrious guest. When the edibles had been removed and the
party were taking wine at the dining-table, M. Dantes, suddenly
remembering that he had an engagement, begged M. Lamartine to excuse him
and remain with his son and daughter until his return, that would be in
half an hour at the utmost. This arrangement effected, the Deputy arose
from his chair, threw his cloak over his arm and was about to take his
departure, when Ali appeared on the threshold of the open doorway,
bearing in his hand a letter. Instantly divining that this was Vampa's
answer, upon which hung Massetti's fate and his own, Esperance leaped to
his feet and fixed his wild and staring eyes on the ominous missive as
if he would read its contents through its folds. Zuleika retained her
seat, but lifted her hands in terror and stared at the letter with
pallid cheeks and blanched lips. Even Lamartine turned in his chair and,
holding his glass in his hand, gazed wonderingly at the Nubian and the
epistle. M. Dantes alone seemed unmoved, and his pale countenance gave
no sign of the emotion struggling in his breast; he stood like a man of
iron, and extending his hand took the letter without a tremor. It was
enclosed in a curiously-fashioned envelope, evidently made by the writer
himself, and bore the Roman postmark; the direction, written in bold,
scrawling, but perfectly legible characters, read: "M. Edmond Dantes,
Deputy from Marseilles, No. 27 Rue du Helder, Paris, France. Personal
and private." This direction was in French.
Ali having retired, the Deputy calmly broke the seal and hurriedly ran
his eyes over the missive. Esperance and Zuleika eagerly and
breathlessly watched his countenance while he read, but it was as
impassable as a countenance chiseled from marble; when he had finished
he turned to Esperance and without a word handed him the letter. For a
moment the young man trembled so he could not read; cold perspiration
stood in heavy beads upon his forehead, and vivid flashes of red passed
before his eyes like sheets of lurid lightning. What thoughts, what
suspicions, what dread shot through his tortured mind in that brief
moment, making it seem an eternity of suffering! At last, steadying and
controlling himself by a supreme effort, he read the missive from which
he had feared such terrible consequences. It was in Italian, and ran as
follows:
HIS EXCELLENCY, THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO: You ask me to answer
your questions, and I comply. Pasquale Solara's daughter,
Annunziata, was abducted, from her father's peasant-home by
Giovanni Massetti, known as the Viscount Massetti, who is, no