Monte-Cristo's Daughter
respecting Annunziata Solara as you would your own sister, or meet me
pistol in hand on the field of honor! Take your choice, I say! What is
your decision?"
"I will not give up Annunziata!"
"Then you must fight!"
"I shall not hesitate!"
"So be it! My life against yours! I will defend this poor girl's honor
to the last drop of my blood!"
"When shall we fight?"
"To-morrow at dawn."
"Where?"
"In the clearing beyond the chestnut copse on the further side of the
brook. There is no need of witnesses; this matter is between us and us
alone!"
"So much the better, for it will be a duel to the death! I cannot as yet
hold my right arm aloft long enough to fight with it, but I will make my
left hand serve!" Then, as a sudden thought struck him, Massetti added:
"Do you propose to betray me, to carry your story to Annunziata and her
brother?"
Esperance surveyed his companion with intense scorn flashing from his
eyes.
"I am no traitor!" he said, coldly, and, turning, quitted the apartment.
CHAPTER IX.
THE ABDUCTION.
The remainder of that day Esperance and Giovanni did not meet again;
they purposely avoided each other, the former because he did not wish to
have a further quarrel with the Viscount, and the latter because he
dreaded a repetition of the accusations of dishonorable conduct, which
had stung him deeper than he would own even to himself.
Esperance disdained to play the spy upon Massetti, but, nevertheless, he
determined not to quit the immediate vicinity of the cabin and to be as
watchful as circumstances would permit. Nothing, however, occurred to
arouse his suspicions as long as daylight lasted. Once or twice Giovanni
quitted his chamber and walked back and forth excitedly on the sward in
front of the hut, but his promenades were of very short duration,
seeming to have no other object then to calm his seething brain.
Annunziata did not go near him, though whether coquetry or fear caused
her to pursue this course Esperance was unable to determine, but her
action gratified him because it gave Giovanni no opportunity to follow
up whatever advantage he might have gained with the flower-girl.
Lorenzo appeared to have no suspicion whatever that anything was amiss
either with the young men or his sister. He was as light-hearted and
cheerful as ever, going about his usual trifling occupations with gayety
that was absolutely contagious, and displaying even more than his
accustomed amiability. Esperance had grown to esteem this youthful
peasant highly; he had found him manliness and generosity personified
and had resolved, on his return to Rome, to interest the Count of
Monte-Cristo in his welfare and advancement. With regard to Annunziata,
Esperance was as yet altogether undecided; she was a problem he could
not solve. Her innocence and virtue were apparent, but her childlike
simplicity and utter lack of worldly experience, while so charming and
delightful to behold, added to her wonderful beauty, exposed her to
risks that were frightful to contemplate. Had she only possessed a lover
in her own rank of life, all would have been well with her; but she
possessed no lover, was absolutely alone; if she escaped Giovanni, and
Esperance was determined she should escape him if he could effect it,
the chances were that she would eventually fall into the clutches of
some other admirer still more reckless and unscrupulous. The son of
Monte-Cristo could not think of the lovely girl and her future without a
pang that made his very heart ache. He, too, admired her beauty, her
grace and her artlessness, but his admiration was confined within the
proper bounds, and could he have seen her suitably and happily wedded,
he would have rejoiced to the depths of his soul.
Late in the afternoon Pasquale Solara reappeared suddenly and without
the least warning. The old man was covered with dust, as if he had been
journeying far on foot. He plainly showed that he was greatly fatigued,
also that something had occurred to irritate him. He entered the cabin
unobserved, and was there for some moments before his presence was
discovered. Annunziata was the first to see him, sitting upon a rude
wooden bench with his stout oaken staff in his hand on which he leaned
heavily. She threw her arms about his neck with a cry of joy,
endeavoring to snatch a kiss from his tightly-closed lips, but he
sternly and silently repulsed her. Lorenzo, in his turn, met with no
warmer reception at his father's hands. But his children were used to
Pasquale's moods and were, therefore, altogether unaffected by his
present morose deportment; they speedily left him to himself, giving
themselves no further trouble concerning him. Once when Esperance came
into the room the old man stared at him inquiringly, as if he had
utterly forgotten the fact that strangers were enjoying the shelter of
his roof; then he appeared to recollect and scowled so savagely that the
young man beat a hasty retreat, going to seek Lorenzo, whose cheery
voice was heard singing beyond the brook.
As Esperance came in sight of the little stream, he nearly stumbled over
a peasant, lying at full length beneath the spreading branches of an
aged willow. The stranger was reading a book, and Esperance was amazed
to notice that it was "Caesar's Commentaries." He uttered an apology for
his awkwardness, but the peasant only smiled and, in a gentle voice,
begged pardon for being in the way. That voice! Esperance was certain
he had heard it before, but where or when he could not recall, though
it thrilled him to the very marrow of his bones, filling him with vague
apprehensions. The man's face, too, was familiar, as also was his
attire; but there was great similarity between the Italian peasants in
the vicinity of Rome in general looks and dress; it was quite likely
that he had not seen this man before, but some other resembling him;
still, the voice and face troubled Esperance, and he decided to question
the peasant; the rarity of strangers' visits to this sequestered
locality would be a sufficient pretext for his curiosity.
"My friend," said he, addressing the recumbent reader, who had resumed
his book, "are you a relative or acquaintance of the Solaras?"
"I am neither," replied the man, carelessly, glancing up from his volume
and allowing his penetrating eyes to rest on his questioner, "I strolled
here by chance, and this cosy nook was so inviting that I took
possession of it without a thought as to the intrusion I was
committing."
The peasant's language was refined; Esperance noted this fact and was
not a little surprised thereby; in addition, he could not understand why
the stranger should be reading "Caesar's Commentaries," a work far beyond
the range of the usual peasant intellect.
"You are committing no intrusion," said he. "Lorenzo and Annunziata, I
am sure, would be glad to welcome you. Old Pasquale is somewhat of a
savage, it is true, but luckily he does not bother himself much about
anything or anybody."
"Pasquale has arrived then?" said the man, dropping his book and
evincing a sudden interest.
"Yes; he is in the cabin now," answered Esperance, his astonishment
increasing. "Do you want to speak with him?"
"No," said the peasant, lightly springing to his feet. He hastily closed
his book, thrust it into his belt, and, bowing to Esperance, disappeared
in the forest.
The young man looked after him for an instant; then he joined Lorenzo
and informed him of the meeting. At his first words Annunziata's brother
ceased singing; a cloud overspread his brow, and he asked, in an eager
tone, for a description of the curiously behaved stranger. Esperance
gave it to him, remarking as he did so that his companion turned
slightly pale and seemed frightened.
"Who is this man?" he asked, as he concluded. "Do you know him? He
appeared strangely familiar to me."
"Do I know him?" repeated Lorenzo, with a shudder. "Yes--that is no!"
Esperance stared at his comrade in surprise and uneasiness; the youthful
peasant evidently had more knowledge of the singular intruder than he
was willing to admit. There was surely some mystery here. What was it?
Did the presence of this stranger menace the peace, the tranquillity,
the safety of the Solara family? Was he in some dark way associated with
the movements and actions of old Pasquale? Esperance attempted to
question Lorenzo further, but he only shook his head and declined to
make any disclosures. He, however, stipulated that his sister should
not be informed of what had occurred, urging that there was no necessity
of uselessly alarming her. Alarming her? What could he mean? Esperance
grew more and more perplexed, and his conviction that he had met the
stranger previously, increasing in strength, added to his anxiety and
discomfort.
For some hours Giovanni had kept his room and given no sign. What was he
meditating? Was it possible that he was concocting some cunning plan by
which to circumvent intervention and gain undisturbed possession of the
girl who had so powerfully influenced his passions? Could it be that he
was in some mysterious way associated with the strange peasant, whose
sudden advent seemed of such ill omen? Esperance thought of all these
things and was infinitely tortured by them, but, one by one, he
succeeded in dismissing them from his mind. Giovanni was certainly under
a potent spell that might lead him to the commission of any
indiscretion, but he was at bottom a man of honor, and there was some
chance that his better feelings might obtain the mastery of his mere
physical inclinations. At any rate, Esperance felt that he could trust
him for one night more at least. Perhaps in the morning he would awaken
to a true sense of his position and acknowledge his error; he might even
implore his friend's pardon, admit that he was right and consent to
return to Rome, leaving the bewitching Annunziata in all her innocence
and purity. Upon reflection Esperance decided that the stranger could be
in nowise the associate or accomplice of the Viscount, for the latter
had communicated with no one, had not even gone a dozen steps from the
Solara cabin during his entire period of convalescence. The idea of
collusion was untenable. Esperance resolved to watch and wait. There was
no telling what a few hours might bring forth; but at the worst he would
fight; if he fell he would not regret it, and, if Giovanni perished at
his hands, his death would be due to his own headlong impulses and his
blood, under the circumstances, could not be a disgraceful, dishonorable
stain.
Towards nightfall old Pasquale Solara began to display unwonted
activity, showing, at the same time, signs of considerable agitation. He
was yet uncommunicative and morose, spoke only at rare intervals; often
he did not reply at all to the questions addressed to him, and when he
did answer it was only in gruff, snappish monosyllables. He went from
place to place uneasily, frequently leaving the cabin and gazing
peeringly and stealthily into the forest as if he expected some one or
was looking for some secret signal known only to himself. He glanced at
Lorenzo and Esperance suspiciously, seeking, as it were, to penetrate
their very thoughts. When he encountered Annunziata, he examined her
from head to foot with a strange mixture of satisfaction, anxiety and
tremulousness. At such times there was a greedy, wolfish expression in
his glittering eyes, and his hands worked nervously.
When twilight had given place to darkness, he suddenly left the hut and
did not return. His unusual conduct had occasioned somewhat of a
commotion in the little household, but quiet reigned after his departure
and his singular behavior was speedily forgotten by his children. Not
so, however, with Esperance. The young man, agitated as he was with the