Monte-Cristo's Daughter
turmoil of his own feelings, could not get old Pasquale and his behavior
out of his mind. It filled him with sinister forebodings and made him
look forward to the night with an indefinable dread, not unmingled with
absolute fear. It seemed to him that the old shepherd was meditating
some dark and desperate deed that would be put into execution with
disastrous results ere dawn.
The evening, nevertheless, passed without incident, and in due course
sleep brooded over the Solara cabin, wrapping all its inmates in silence
and repose. All its inmates? All save the son of Monte-Cristo, who
tossed restlessly upon his couch and could not close his eyes. At
length, however, he managed to calm himself somewhat and was just
sinking into a sort of half slumber when he was suddenly roused by a
wild, far echoing cry that caused him to leap instantly from his bed.
The cry was a woman's, and he thought he recognized the voice, of
Annunziata Solara. A second's thought seemed to satisfy him on this
point, for the flower-girl was the only female in the vicinity and the
voice was certainly hers; but it sounded from a distance, without the
cabin, and this fact bewildered him. Promptly old Solara's conduct
returned to his mind, and instinctively he connected the morose shepherd
with the cry and whatever was happening. The young man had not removed
his garments; it was, therefore, only the work of an instant for him to
grasp his pistol, which he kept loaded beneath his pillow, and rush from
the hut in the direction of the cry, which had been repeated, but was
growing fainter and fainter.
As he emerged from the cabin, he heard a shot echo through the forest,
and almost immediately a man rushed into his arms, bleeding profusely
from a gaping wound in the temple. The night was moonless and dark, but
in the feeble and uncertain light Esperance recognized Lorenzo.
"My sister--my sister--poor Annunziata!" the young peasant gasped,
painfully. "Your friend--abducted--gone! Oh! my God!" and he sank to the
ground an unconscious mass, quivering in the final agonies of
dissolution.
Esperance was horror-stricken. Annunziata abducted by Giovanni! He could
draw no other conclusion from the young peasant's broken exclamations!
Lorenzo slain, too, and doubtlessly also by the impetuous Viscount's
hand! Oh! it was horrible!--it was almost beyond belief! He bent over
Lorenzo's prostrate form, straightened it out and felt in the region of
the heart; there was no beat; it was as he had divined--Annunziata's
manly and generous brother was dead--the victim of a cowardly,
treacherous assassin--and that assassin!--oh! he could not think of it
and retain his faith in men!
Esperance left Lorenzo's corpse lying upon the sward, and, pistol in
hand, started forward to go to Annunziata's aid, to rescue her from her
dastardly abductor, if it lay within his power to do so. He reached the
forest and plunged into its sombre depths. Scarcely had he gone twenty
feet when a man carrying a flaming torch rushed wildly by him, in his
shirt sleeves, hatless, his short, thick gray hair standing almost erect
upon his head. In the sudden flash of light his haggard eyes blazed like
those of a maniac. In his left hand he held a long, keen-bladed knife.
He glanced neither to the right nor the left, but kept straight on, as
if he were a ferocious bloodhound in pursuit of human prey. Esperance
came to an abrupt pause, and stared with wide-open eyes at the startling
apparition. It was old Pasquale Solara! The son of Monte-Cristo
shuddered as he thought that the father, with all his Italian ferocity
thoroughly aroused, was in pursuit of the man who had abducted his
daughter and murdered his son. In that event the Viscount's death was
sure, for he could not escape the vengeance of the distracted and
remorseless shepherd! Should he raise his voice and warn him? No, a
thousand times no! Giovanni deserved death, and did the furious old man
inflict it, he would be only advancing the just punishment of the
outraged law!
Quickly resolving to follow in the footsteps of Pasquale Solara,
Esperance dashed on, utterly regardless of the bushes and briars that
impeded his progress and tore great rents in his garments. Soon excited
voices reached him, then the noise of a violent struggle. He pushed
rapidly forward, intent upon reaching the scene of conflict, where he
did not doubt the hapless Annunziata would be found. Soon he
indistinctly saw two men engaged in a hand to hand strife. One was
evidently Pasquale Solara, for a torch was smouldering on the ground
half-extinguished by the damp moss, and the young man caught an
occasional flash of a knife such as the shepherd had carried when he
passed him, but beyond these circumstances all was supposition, for the
identity of the contending men could not be made out in the obscurity.
Grasping his pistol tightly, Esperance was about declaring his presence
when the figure of a man sprang up before him with the suddenness of a
flash of lightning, seeming to emerge from the very ground at his feet.
At that instant the torch gave a brilliant gleam and went out, but in
that gleam Esperance recognized the man who opposed his progress as the
strange peasant he had seen reading "Caesar's Commentaries" the previous
afternoon by the brook in the vicinity of the Solara cabin. Was he, too,
mixed up in the abduction, and how? Again the suspicion returned to
Esperance that he was the confederate, the accomplice of the Viscount
Massetti.
"Remain where you are!" commanded the intruder, sternly. "If you advance
another step, the consequences be upon your own head!"
"Stand aside and let me pass!" thundered the young man, presenting his
pistol at his opponent's head. The other gave a low laugh, made a quick
movement and Esperance's weapon went whirling swiftly through the air.
Meanwhile the sounds of strife had ceased, and the almost impenetrable
darkness of the forest effectually prevented the young man from
distinguishing anything a yard distant. As his pistol was hurled from
his grasp he closed his fists tightly, set his teeth firmly together and
made a frantic dash at the peasant. The latter leaped aside with
surprising agility, vanishing instantaneously among the clustering
trees. So sudden was his leap that Esperance, carried on by the strong
impetus he had given himself, plunged wildly into a clump of bushes and
fell headlong upon a thick growth of moss, the softness of which
prevented him from sustaining even the slightest bruise. As he came in
contact with the moss, his hand touched something cold that sent an icy
shiver through him from head to foot. Instinctively he recognized the
object as a human face, and passing his hand along he felt the body and
limbs. Great heavens! who was this? Had another murder been done? Would
there ever be an end to the horrors and mysteries of this dreadful
night? The body was that of a man. Esperance arose to his knees and
drawing a match-safe from his pocket struck a light. As the flame
flashed upon the countenance of the unconscious man, the features of
Giovanni Massetti appeared! Esperance was stunned. How was this? The
Viscount there, beneath his hand, cold and motionless! Who then could
have been the individual with whom old Pasquale Solara had been
struggling but a moment since? Truly the mysteries of this night were
becoming too complicated for solution! And where was the unfortunate
Annunziata? Had she escaped from her captor or captors, had she been
rescued, had she perished like her ill-fated brother, or had the
abduction been successfully accomplished? None of these questions could
Esperance answer. One thing, however, was plain--there was no trace of
her now; no clue that he could follow; therefore, further pursuit for
the present was useless. Sadly he determined to wait for day and then
resolve upon some plan to put into immediate execution to retrieve, as
far as possible the great wrong that had been done.
But Giovanni must be attended to. Guilty or innocent, dead or alive, he
could not be abandoned where he was. Humanity demanded that some effort
be made in his behalf. Perhaps, too, if he were in a condition to speak,
some key to the strange, bewildering and terrible transactions of the
night might be obtained. Esperance raised him in his arms and carried
him to the brook near the Solara cabin. By this time the moon had arisen
and in its silvery rays he examined him thoroughly. There was no trace
of blood, no wound; only a large bruise on his forehead, as if he had
been struck with some heavy object and knocked down unconscious. He was
alive, for his heart was beating, and once or twice he had moved on the
sward where Esperance had placed him. The young man made a cup of his
hands, and, dipping some cool water from the stream, dashed it in the
Viscount's face. Instantly he opened his eyes, gazing about him in
bewilderment. He sat up and stared wildly at Esperance.
"What is the matter? How came I here?" he asked, in astonishment. Then
suddenly putting his hand to the bruise on his forehead, as if it
pained him, he continued: "Ah! yes! I remember it all now! Luigi Vampa
struck me!"
"Luigi Vampa struck you?" cried Esperance, more amazed than ever.
"Yes, after he had forced me to take a fearful oath to remain silent!"
"Silent about what? The abduction of Annunziata Solara?"
"Hush! hush! Do not mention that girl's name! Vampa or some of his men
may be lurking in the vicinity and hear!"
"What has become of her? At least tell me that! You know!"
"As God is my judge, I do not!"
"Were you not with her to-night? Did you not forcibly take her from the
cabin?"
"No! no!"
"Who did then?"
"Alas! my oath compels silence on that point!"
"Your oath! That is a very convenient excuse! Giovanni, Luigi Vampa was
not here to-night."
"He was. He lurked around the cabin all day, that when darkness came he
might commit the blackest deed that ever sullied the record of mankind!"
Instantly Esperance recollected the peasant he had met that afternoon
beside the brook, the man who, but a short while before, had opposed his
passage and disarmed him in the forest. His vague familiarity with his
voice, face and dress was now accounted for. The man was Luigi Vampa.
There could be no doubt of it. But why had he abducted Annunziata
Solara, as Giovanni's words would seem to infer? Why, save as the
confederate and accomplice of the Viscount Massetti? But then how had
Giovanni communicated with him, and in what manner had they contrived to
arrange the details of their dishonorable plot? Was it possible that old
Pasquale had been the medium of correspondence between the two men. Had
he been base enough to sell his child? In that case, with whom had he
fought so fiercely and desperately in the forest? Why also had the
brigand chief sworn Giovanni to silence? Vain questions, admitting of no
satisfactory replies. The Viscount's story was incredible; it was,
without doubt, a mere fabrication intended to cover and conceal his own
guilt in the premises. Still Esperance could not reconcile this theory
with the fact of finding Giovanni senseless in the forest.
The young Italian had by this time fully recovered from the effects of
the shock he had received. He arose to his feet, and, approaching
Esperance, said, earnestly:
"My friend, let the past be forgotten. I was wrong and you were right. I
ask your pardon. As to the abduction of this unfortunate girl, I assure
you that I am entirely innocent of it!"
"But who fired the shot that killed Lorenzo?" asked Esperance, sternly.
"Killed Lorenzo!" cried Giovanni, with unmistakable horror. "Was Lorenzo
killed?"
"He was shot to-night and died in my arms!"
"Oh! this is terrible!" exclaimed the Viscount, beads of cold