Monte-Cristo's Daughter
me to let the men off."
"But is there not some way in which I could obtain a mitigation of their
punishment?"
"Oh! as for that, yes," said the officer, brightening. "If you would
speak to the Procureur de la Republique, I am sure he would grant you
the minimum sentence in such cases. Perhaps," added he, as a sudden
thought struck him, "he might even be induced not to press the
prosecution, in which event the men would be discharged."
"Thank you, monsieur," said the Count, rising. "I will act upon your
wise suggestion without delay. But can you grant me a small favor? Can
you allow me a brief interview with the man calling himself Peppino?"
"Undoubtedly," answered the chief, in a cordial voice, "and I shall be
very glad to do so if it will assist you any."
"It will enable me to assure the man that I am at work and have some
hope of success."
"Then follow me."
The chief, who had remained standing out of compliment to the Count,
took a large key from a rack behind his desk and opened a door leading
into a long, dimly-lighted corridor. Monte-Cristo followed him through
this gloomy passage until they came to a cell before which the chief
stopped. The large key grated in the lock, the door of the cell swung
open with an ominous sound and the Count found himself face to face with
the former Roman bandit.
Peppino was sitting on the edge of an iron bedstead, the very picture
of despair. He thought that Monte-Cristo had deserted him, that he would
not interfere even with the prospect of obtaining the details of the
plot against young Massetti. As the Count entered the cell his
countenance brightened instantly and hope was renewed in his bosom. The
chief discreetly withdrew, saying as he did so:
"I will wait without, in the corridor."
With these words he closed the door of the cell and Monte-Cristo found
himself alone with Peppino.
All the light that made its way into the gloomy cell came through a
small grated window high up in the wall, placed at such a distance from
the floor that no prisoner could reach it even by climbing upon his
bedstead. The walls and ceiling were of stone.
"Well," asked Peppino, "how has your Excellency succeeded?"
"I have made but little progress as yet, though I hope to be able to do
something for you and Beppo in a very short time," answered the Count,
in a reassuring voice.
"I am satisfied," said Peppino, cheerily. "If your Excellency only
determines upon it, Beppo and myself will shortly be free!"
"I cannot go that far, my good fellow, but I can and do promise you all
my aid and influence can effect."
"They will effect everything necessary, Signor Count," replied the
Italian, confidently.
"Do not hope for too much, Peppino. I have told you that Paris is
different from Rome."
"I have occasion now to know that," rejoined the outlaw, bitterly. "But
the power of the Count of Monte-Cristo is the same here as in the
campagna!"
"Keep up a stout heart, at all events, my good fellow. We shall soon
know what can be done."
"I will keep up a stout heart, Signor Count, for I have perfect faith in
you!"
"So be it. Now, my man, what do you know about the plot against the
Viscount Massetti?"
"Pardon me, Signor Count," said the Italian, shrewdly, "but I will tell
you that when Beppo and myself are at liberty!"
Monte-Cristo smiled at the man's cunning.
"At least," he said, "tell me if you have seen the Viscount recently."
"I will do that, your Excellency. I saw him a very short time ago in
Rome and afterwards with Luigi Vampa and Pasquale Solara in the marshy
country beyond the Trastavere."
"What brought you and your companion to Paris?"
"We had a disagreement with old Solara, whom Luigi Vampa insisted we
should obey implicitly. Solara was a tyrant; besides, he was as greedy
and avaricious as a miser; he wanted everything for himself and would
allow us nothing; he demanded that all the booty we acquired should be
brought directly to him without division, stating that he would parcel
out our shares; this he invariably failed to do and naturally we
rebelled. Vampa, who has become, if he was not always so, old
Pasquale's fast friend, decided against us whenever we carried our
complaints to him. Finally we could stand it no longer; we were
absolutely starving while Solara was heaping up riches, so we determined
to quit the band. We did so and came to Paris, where we have been ever
since."
"I will not ask you what you have been doing in Paris," said
Monte-Cristo, smiling faintly; "in fact, I need not ask you, for I know;
the chief of the poste has told me; but will you promise me to lead a
better life in future and to try to induce Beppo to do the same, if I
should succeed in effecting your release?"
"I cannot promise you that," replied the Italian, with averted eyes,
"but I will promise you to return to Rome and take Beppo with me."
"That will do as well, or almost as well," said the Count. "Armed with
such a promise, I think I can obtain your freedom. But you must swear to
me to leave France immediately after you have been set at liberty, and I
shall consider your oath as binding upon Beppo also."
"I swear to leave France the very moment I am free! I swear, too, that
Beppo shall accompany me!"
"It is well," said the Count. "I shall be here again this afternoon or
to-morrow at the furthest; but remember that before you leave this cell
you must give me the full details of the conspiracy against young
Massetti!"
"I shall remember it, Signor Count; have no fear of that! When I have
spoken old Solara must look out for himself!"
"What do you mean by that?" asked Monte-Cristo, sharply.
"Never mind at present, Signor Count! I will make everything clear to
you on your return."
The Deputy from Marseilles quitted the cell and the poste, after having
thanked the chief for his courtesy. He drove without delay to the office
of the Procureur de la Republique in the Palais de Justice, and it was
not long before he had matters satisfactorily arranged. The Procureur
cheerfully agreed not to push the charge against the Italians on
condition that Monte-Cristo pledged himself they should leave Paris
immediately after the Juge d' Instruction had discharged them. This
pledge the Count made without the slightest hesitation, and it was
decided that the Juge d' Instruction should hold his formal examination
at the poste that afternoon, when the Procureur would appear through his
Deputy and order the cessation of the proceedings for full and
sufficient reasons. The Procureur agreed to notify the Count of the
exact hour of the examination that he might be present and ready to
execute his share of the compact.
As Monte-Cristo drove back to the mansion of the Rue du Helder he could
not help feeling considerably agitated. What was he about to learn from
Peppino, and how would the Italian's disclosures affect Massetti? These
were problems that the next few hours were destined to solve.
CHAPTER XVI.
AMID THE COLOSSEUM'S RUINS.
One of the first things Maximilian Morrel did, after he and his wife
were comfortably installed at the Hotel de France in Rome, was to make a
formal call at the Palazzo Massetti and present his letters of
introduction to the aged Count, Giovanni's father.
The old nobleman, who was at least seventy and very patriarchal in
appearance because of his flowing white locks and long snowy beard,
received the young Frenchman with great urbanity and condescension in a
sumptuously furnished salon full of rare art treasures and dazzling with
gold and satin. He met him with outstretched hand and said, warmly, at
the same time glancing at the Captain's card as if to refresh his
memory:
"I am delighted to have the honor of welcoming so distinguished a
visitor as Captain Maximilian Morrel to the Palazzo Massetti. Pray be
seated, Captain, and consider my residence as yours."
The Count spoke French fluently, without even the faintest trace of a
foreign accent, and this fact as well as his charmingly cordial manner
caused the young soldier immediately to feel at ease in his presence.
"I assure you, Count," returned Maximilian, bowing and then seating
himself, "that the pleasure is mutual."
The aged nobleman also took a chair, and for a time they conversed
agreeably on various subjects. The Count had been a brave, active
soldier in his day and was much interested in French military affairs.
The visitor, who was thoroughly posted on this topic and devotedly
attached to his profession, gave his inquisitive host every detail he
demanded and was particularly enthusiastic when he spoke of the Parisian
workmen, who, as he asserted, could leave their accustomed toil at a
moment's notice and encounter the perils of the battlefield with the
endurance of trained veterans.
At length Maximilian thought he could venture to feel the ground in
regard to his mission. It was certainly a very delicate matter, but the
Count's politeness and bonhomie encouraged him to proceed. Looking the
old nobleman straight in the face he said:
"I believe, Count, you have a son named Giovanni, who was recently in
Paris."
Instantly the aged Roman's brow clouded and he cast a scrutinizing
glance at his guest. Then he said, coldly:
"I have no son!"
Maximilian in his turn gazed searchingly at the Count, but the latter's
visage had already assumed a stony and defiant look that seemed to
oppose an insurmountable barrier to further conversation on this
subject. There was an awkward pause, during which the two men continued
to gaze at each other. M. Morrel, though much embarrassed and
disconcerted by the prompt check he had received, was the first to break
the ominous silence.
"I ask your pardon, Count," said he, "but the young man of whom I spoke
represented himself to be the Viscount Giovanni Massetti. Is it possible
that he was an impostor?"
The Count's aspect became more frigid; he replied, icily:
"I repeat that I have no son!"
Maximilian was sorely puzzled. He knew not what to think or say. The old
nobleman arose as if to terminate the interview. He showed no trace of
excitement, but M. Morrel felt certain that he was a prey to an internal
agitation that he with difficulty controlled. There could be no doubt
that Giovanni was what he had represented himself to be, for had he not
passed as the Viscount Massetti in Rome as well as in Paris? But one
solution to the mystery offered itself--the Count had disowned his son,
disowned him because of the terrible crime with which he was charged,
from which he had been apparently unable to clear himself. M. Morrel
also arose, but he was unwilling to depart thus, to be summarily
dismissed as it were. He determined to make one more effort to get at
the truth.
"Count," he said, "I do not wish you to misunderstand me, to impute to
mere idle curiosity my desire to be informed concerning this unfortunate
and unhappy young man. I know that a black cloud hangs over him, that
at present he is branded and disgraced. I was not aware, however, that
his family had cast him off."
"Monsieur," returned the Count, impatiently, "you are strangely
persistent."
"I am persistent, Count," said Maximilian, earnestly, "because the
Viscount Massetti is not alone in his misfortune. Another, an estimable
young lady, is now languishing in Paris on his account."
"I pity her!" said the old nobleman, impressively.
"So do I," rejoined Maximilian; "from the bottom of my heart I pity them
both and that is the reason I am here."
"May I ask the name of this estimable young lady?"
"Certainly. Her name is Zuleika; she is the daughter of the world-famous
Count of Monte-Cristo."
Old Massetti gave a start and the muscles of his face twitched
nervously, but he managed to control himself and said: