Monte-Cristo's Daughter
She spoke to the Count about it, begging him to use his influence to
cheer his child, but Monte-Cristo only shook his head, saying that they
must trust to the soothing power of time which could not fail ultimately
to do its work. Esperance pitied his sister sincerely, but refrained
from interfering, well knowing that nothing he could say would be
productive of good. Albert de Morcerf, his wife and Mlle. d' Armilly,
who had learned of Zuleika's love affair and the dark shadow that had
fallen upon it, felt a delicacy about alluding to the matter and,
therefore, held aloof; besides, they were too much depressed by the
circumstances under which Danglars had reappeared to be able to exert a
cheering influence.
When Mercedes returned from Marseilles she was accompanied by Maximilian
and Valentine Morrel, who immediately went to the mansion on the Rue du
Helder and paid their respects to the Count of Monte-Cristo, their
benefactor. It was their intention to make only a brief call, taking up
their residence during their sojourn in Paris at that famous
stopping-place for strangers, the Grand Hotel du Louvre on the Rue de
Rivoli adjoining the Palais Royal, but Monte-Cristo would not hear of
such a thing, insisting that the young soldier and his wife should be
his guests and partake of his hospitality. They were not reluctant to
consent to this agreeable arrangement, as it would enable them to enjoy
uninterruptedly the society of their dearest friends.
Mme. Morrel at once took a deep interest in Zuleika. She saw that some
sorrow was heavily weighing on the young girl, and, rightly divining
that the tender passion had much to do with it, immediately endeavored
to inspire her with a degree of confidence sufficient to bring about
revelations. In this Mme. Morrel was not actuated by curiosity. Her
motive was altogether laudable; she desired to serve the Count of
Monte-Cristo, to do something to show her gratitude for the overwhelming
benefits he had in the past showered upon her husband and herself, and
could conceive no better or more effectual way than by striving to
relieve Zuleika. She, therefore, promptly set about her praiseworthy but
difficult task, resolved to bring back the roses to the young girl's
cheeks and restore hope to her sad and dejected heart.
She began by using every womanly art to induce Zuleika to love her and
look upon her as a friend of friends. In this initial step she succeeded
even beyond her most ardent anticipations. From the first Monte-Cristo's
daughter was attracted towards her, and it required very little effort
on Mme. Morrel's part to win her completely. Valentine's disposition
was so sweet and her sympathy so sincere that Zuleika could not help
loving her; besides, the romantic story of her love for Maximilian and
the terrible trials she had undergone before being united to him through
Monte-Cristo's potent influence, with which she was thoroughly
acquainted, predisposed Giovanni's betrothed to regard her as a woman to
whom she could open her heart and from whom she might derive supreme
solace, if not consolation. Valentine's quick and penetrating eyes read
the young girl like the pages of an open book, and she was not slow in
utilizing the advantages she acquired.
Things had been going on in this way for several days, when one evening
Mme. Morrel proposed a promenade in the garden to Zuleika with a view of
bringing matters to a crisis. She gladly acquiesced in the proposition
and soon they were strolling in the moonlight amid the fragrant flowers
and centenarian trees. It was a sultry night, but there was a pleasant
breeze that agreeably fanned the cheeks of Valentine and her youthful
companion. Mme. Morrel had matured her plan, but Zuleika herself
unexpectedly came to her aid, assisting her to put it into immediate and
practical execution.
After walking for a short space, they seated themselves in a magnificent
pavilion or summer-house situated at the extremity of the garden. It was
built of white stone, the walls being perforated by several tall
archways that supplied the place of both windows and doors. Ivy and
other clustering vines clambered about the exterior, creeping through
the archways and furnishing the ceiling with a verdant canopy
exceedingly inviting and refreshing to the eye weary of contemplating
the dust and dryness of the streets parched by the summer sun. Without
were several great silver maple trees and numerous ornamental shrubs.
Mme. Morrel drew close to Zuleika on the rustic bench they occupied and,
taking the young girl's hand, said to her, in a soft voice:
"This is a delicious spot, my child."
"Yes," replied Monte-Cristo's daughter, "it is, indeed, delicious. When
here, I always feel as if I could pour out my whole heart into the bosom
of some faithful friend."
"Do so in this instance, my dear," said Mme. Morrel, persuasively. "I
trust I am a faithful friend, as well as a discreet one."
"I believe you," rejoined Zuleika. "Ever since you have been in our
house I have felt so and longed to make you my confidante, but I have
hesitated to take such a step, fearing to burden you with troubles that
might distress you."
"Have no further fears on that score then, but speak freely and with the
certainty that in your sorrows, whatever they may be, you will find me a
sincere sympathizer and comforter."
Zuleika took Valentine's hand, and, gazing into her face with tearful
eyes, said:
"You have noticed that I had sorrows, Mme. Morrel?"
"Yes; how could I help it? But I have done more; I have divined their
cause!"
Zuleika gave a slight start.
"Divined their cause, Mme. Morrel?"
"Yes," answered Valentine. "You are in love!"
The young girl blushed, but appeared relieved. Mme. Morrel had divined
her love, had divined that her sorrows arose from it, but she had not
divined the nature of the shadow that clouded her budding life and
filled her with grief and apprehension.
"Zuleika," continued Valentine, with the utmost tenderness and
consideration, "I, too, have loved, deeply and desperately; I, too, have
felt all the bitter pangs that arise from separation; but I have
realized my dream at last, and the shadows that surrounded me have been
swept away by the blessed sunshine of union and happiness. Confide in
me, my child. If I cannot drive your shadows from you, I can at least
give you true sympathy and the consolation that it affords."
"They will be welcome to me, unspeakably welcome, madame," replied
Zuleika, tremulously.
"Then tell me all."
"I cannot, madame; I have no right to; but I can tell you enough to
wring your heart, to show you how unfortunate I am."
"My poor girl, I understand and appreciate your scruples. You do not
wish to compromise your lover, and you are right. Your decision does you
honor. Is the man you love in Paris?"
"Alas! no. I believe he is in Rome."
"Then you do not know his whereabouts with certainty?"
"No, madame."
"Does your father disapprove of his suit?"
"He did not at the outset, but very painful circumstances have since
arisen, causing him to alter his determination, or, at least, hold his
consent in abeyance. Still, I think, he believes Giovanni can and will
refute the dreadful charge that has been made against him."
"Giovanni? Your lover is then an Italian?"
"Yes, the Viscount Giovanni Massetti."
"You became acquainted with him here in Paris?"
"No, madame; in Rome."
"And you think he has gone thither to clear himself of the charge you
mention?"
"Yes, madame. He came to Paris to solicit my hand, but suddenly
disappeared after the terrible charge was made. I have not heard from
him since and his silence weighs upon me like lead."
"I do not wonder at it; but, perhaps, after all, he is only waiting for
a complete vindication and does not wish to write until he has
everything satisfactorily arranged. I do not ask you the nature of the
charge, Zuleika, and would not allow you to state it to me even if you
were so disposed. But answer me one question. You have entire faith in
Giovanni's innocence, have you not?"
"I have, madame."
"You are sure he loves you, that he has not trifled with your
affections?"
"I am sure, madame."
"He is young, is he not?"
"Yes, madame, he is young."
"Doubtlessly his fault, whatever it may have been, was simply an
indiscretion due to his years that has been magnified and made to assume
unwarranted proportions by the tongues of envy and scandal. If so, he
will repair it and return to you. If he is altogether innocent, as you
feel convinced, he will move heaven and earth to justify himself in your
father's eyes and yours. Love is potent, Zuleika, and will accomplish
miracles. Trust Giovanni and trust Heaven! All will yet be made right
between your lover and yourself!"
"Would that I could feel so, madame, but I cannot!"
"And why, pray?"
"Because Giovanni evidently has powerful enemies in Rome and its
vicinity who, no doubt, are at this moment operating against him and
using all their efforts to prevent him from succeeding in his mission."
"What makes you think he has such remorseless enemies?"
"A letter my father received from Rome in response to inquiries he made
and the illusion--it must be an illusion--under which my brother
Esperance labors in regard to Giovanni."
"Your brother Esperance! Then he believes in young Massetti's guilt?"
"Alas! yes; he firmly believes in it and stigmatizes the Viscount as the
worst of scoundrels."
"Has he given you the reasons for his belief, has he stated them to your
father?"
"He has dealt only in vague, mysterious allusions; an oath of silence,
it appears, prevents him from speaking out."
"An oath of silence?"
"Yes, and Giovanni is also likewise bound."
"Indeed! What is your lover's reputation in Rome?"
"Of the very best; he is there regarded as the soul of honor."
"Save by his enemies. So far so good. Do you know the standing of his
family?"
"It is one of the oldest, most respected, most aristocratic and
wealthiest in the Eternal City."
"Another strong point in the young man's favor. Zuleika, I am satisfied
that the mystery surrounding your lover can be cleared away; but I am
also satisfied that he needs assistance, the assistance of persons
deeply interested in you, who have your welfare at heart and cherish
your happiness as their own."
"But such persons cannot be found, madame. Of course my father and
brother are deeply interested in me, have my welfare at heart and desire
to see me happy. They, however, are not disposed to aid Giovanni, my
brother for reasons of his own and my father because he thinks that the
Viscount should work his own rehabilitation. No, madame, such persons as
you mention cannot be found."
"They can be found, Zuleika, and you will not have far to look for them
either!"
Mme. Morrel gazed at Monte-Cristo's daughter with enthusiasm in her fine
eyes. The girl was at a loss to understand her.
"Surely you do not mean Albert de Morcerf and Eugenie?" she said.
"No," replied Valentine. "They love you, undoubtedly, but the needful
assistance is not to be obtained from them."
"Certainly you cannot allude to Mlle. d' Armilly or Ali, my father's
devoted Nubian servant?"
"No, I do not allude to them!"
"Whom then do you mean?"
"Cannot you guess, Zuleika?"
A sudden thought came to Zuleika, filling her with intense amazement.
"You cannot mean yourself and your husband, Mme. Morrel?" she gasped.
"And why not, my child?" answered Valentine, sweetly. "All the
assistance we can render you will be but a weak, inadequate return for
what your father has done for us. He saved me from death, withdrew the
suicidal pistol from Maximilian's hand, comforted us in our time of