Monte-Cristo's Daughter
his bed watched him narrowly, not knowing what to make of his
preoccupation and agitated by a vague fear lest he might refuse to
fulfil his promise. At length Monte-Cristo appeared to have solved the
knotty problem that had perplexed him and to have arrived at a decision.
He came in front of the Italian, halted and, gazing steadfastly at him,
said:
"My good fellow, I have, as you know, obtained freedom for yourself and
Beppo by pledging my word to the Procureur de la Republique that both of
you shall at once quit the country. On your side you have done as you
agreed and I am now about to execute my part of the bargain."
Peppino's countenance assumed an expression of the utmost delight. All
his apprehensions instantly vanished.
"Now," continued Monte-Cristo, impressively, "I have a proposition to
make to you. You can be exceedingly useful to me if you will and at the
same time acquire a large sum of money honestly and honorably."
The Italian's eyes glittered with pleasure.
"Name your proposition, Signor Count," he said, enthusiastically. "I
accept it in advance. But is Beppo included in it?"
"He is," answered the Count. "The revelations you have made to me have
decided me to go to Rome at once. I shall take my daughter with me, as
well as my Nubian servant Ali. I desire you and Beppo to enter my
service and accompany me. Humanity demands that I use all my influence
to right the unfortunate Viscount Massetti, and I wish you to aid me in
the work."
"I will do as you desire, Signor Count," said the Italian, "and I will
promise that Beppo shall also comply with your wishes."
"Very well," rejoined Monte-Cristo. "It is understood and agreed upon.
One condition, however, I must exact. You and Beppo must hold no
communication with Luigi Vampa or any of his band, at least not until I
so direct."
"The condition shall be scrupulously observed, Signor Count. While in
your service your commands shall be our only law."
"It is sufficient. Now I am going to set you and Beppo at liberty. You
will at once accompany me to my residence and there the preparations for
our departure will immediately be made. We shall start for Rome
to-morrow."
"As your Excellency pleases," said the Italian.
Monte-Cristo summoned the gardien on duty at the poste, directing him
to produce Beppo, and soon the Count and the Italians were seated in the
former's barouche and being rapidly driven by Ali towards the mansion on
the Rue du Helder.
No sooner had they arrived at their destination than the Count, giving
the new additions to his retinue into the charge of the faithful Nubian,
repaired to his study, summoning Zuleika to him. The girl hastened to
obey the summons, and the sight of her father's pale, stern countenance
instantly told her that something very unusual and important had taken
place.
"My child," said the Count, taking her tenderly in his arms and gazing
fondly into her upturned, anxious face, "I have to-day received some
very startling intelligence."
Zuleika's heart beat wildly at this announcement; she felt convinced
that the very startling intelligence concerned her unfortunate,
long-silent lover.
"Father," said she, in a tremulous voice, "have you received word from
the Viscount Massetti?"
"No, my child," answered Monte-Cristo; "but tidings of the gravest
nature relating to him have been imparted to me."
"Tidings of the gravest nature, father! Is it possible that he is dead?"
As she uttered the last words, the poor girl burst into a flood of
tears.
"No, my child," replied the Count. "Young Massetti is not dead."
"Has he succeeded in clearing himself of that terrible charge?" the
girl asked, trembling with anxiety.
"Alas! no! But he is innocent, Zuleika, as innocent of the dreadful
crime imputed to him as the babe unborn! Of that you can rest assured,
for the proof of his innocence is in my hands!"
Zuleika gave a wild cry of joy and flung her arms about her father's
neck.
"Calm yourself, my child," resumed Monte-Cristo; "all will yet be well.
I start for Rome to-morrow with Ali and two of Giovanni's friends. Be
ready to accompany me!"
Zuleika's ecstasy was almost beyond bounds; but alas! she did not know
that Giovanni's mind had been overthrown by the shame and disgrace that
had been heaped upon him!
CHAPTER XIX.
THE MANIAC OF THE COLOSSEUM.
After quitting their guides at the Colosseum Maximilian and Valentine
advanced towards the centre of the gladiatorial arena where the demented
Giovanni Massetti was standing. He did not notice them, did not seem to
pay even the slightest attention to his surroundings, but kept his eyes
upturned towards heaven, the murmur of bitter malediction constantly
issuing from his lips. As M. and Mme. Morrel approached his words became
clearer and clearer and they had no difficulty whatever in fully
understanding their terrible import. No wonder the guides were
frightened by such a flow of bitter scathing curses!
The afflicted Viscount maintained his motionless, statue-like attitude,
resembling more the weird creation of some sculptor's vivid fancy than a
living, breathing mortal. Valentine was filled with indescribable sorrow
as she gazed at him and realized that this wreck of noble, glorious
manhood was the beloved of Zuleika's heart, the being with whose unhappy
destiny that of Monte-Cristo's daughter was inextricably entwined. Oh!
that by some miracle, such as the fabled divinities of old Olympus were
said to have performed, he might be restored to reason and the
possession of an unblemished name! But the days of miracles were over,
and if the young Italian was to be brought back to sanity and cleared
from the fearful charge against him that had wrought all this harm, this
misery, it must be by earthly and ordinary means. Perhaps she and her
husband were destined to work these apparently impossible changes! Who
knew? Many things equally improbable had happened, and why should not
this wondrous transformation, a transformation worthy of the wand of
some potent Prospero, be effected? Valentine was a devoted friend and an
enthusiast, and Monte-Cristo's maxim, "Wait and Hope," was her guiding
star. "Wait and Hope!" Oh! how cheering, how reassuring was that simple,
trustful motto!
Maximilian, on his side, felt unutterable pity for both the wretched man
before him and the lovely Zuleika, the sweet and tender child of his
benefactor, languishing and despairing far away in her father's
luxurious, palatial home. The poor girl was surrounded by all the
blessings that unbounded wealth could confer; she had the Count's love,
Mercedes' love, Esperance's love and the sincere affection of all who
knew her; but alas! princely riches, parental, brotherly love and the
affection of friends were as nothing compared to the passion that was
gnawing at her vitals, a desperate, hopeless passion that was but a
heavy weight of woe! But was this passion altogether desperate and
hopeless? Time alone could show!
M. and Mme. Morrel were now within a few feet of the hapless, crazed
young man, but his attention was so engrossed by the mad thoughts
surging through his bewildered brain that he yet failed to detect their
presence.
Bidding Valentine remain where she was, her husband drew close beside
Giovanni and suddenly placed his hand on his shoulder. The Viscount
started at this unexpected interruption of his sombre reverie and
hastily glanced at the intruder. His eyes, however, had a stony,
uncomprehending stare, expressing neither surprise nor fear.
"Giovanni Massetti," said Maximilian, "listen to me! I am a friend!"
The young man replied, in a low, discordant voice:
"Who is it mentions Giovanni Massetti? There was once a man who bore
that name, but he is dead, dead to the world!"
"I have told you I am a friend," resumed M. Morrel. "I have come to save
you!"
"A friend!--a friend!" cried the maniac, with a burst of bitter, mocking
laughter that pierced Maximilian through and through like a
sharp-pointed, keen-edged stiletto and made Valentine shudder as if she
had come in contact with polar ice. "A friend!--a friend! Come to save
me--me! ha! ha! ha! A labor of Hercules with no Hercules to accomplish
it! You are mad, my poor fellow! Besides, I am not Giovanni Massetti--I
am a King, an Emperor! Behold my sceptre and my crown!"
He pointed to his tall staff and the wreath of ivy leaves encircling his
head, pointed triumphantly and with all the dignity of a throned
monarch.
It was a pitiful sight, in the highest degree pitiful, this spectacle
of intellect overthrown, of the glorious mental light of youthful
manhood which had became clouded and obscured.
Maximilian was deeply affected, but, knowing full well that all his
firmness, resolution and resources would be requisite in dealing with
the wretched man he had come so far to aid, he controlled his emotion
and said, in a comparatively steady voice:
"Giovanni Massetti, in the name of the woman you love, in the name of
Zuleika, Monte-Cristo's daughter, I conjure you to be calm and hear me.
I am her ambassador, I come to you from her!"
The young man put his hand to his forehead and seemed to be striving to
collect his scattered senses.
"Zuleika?--Zuleika?" he murmured. "Monte-Cristo's daughter? Yes, yes, I
have heard of her before--a long time back in the dreary past! I read of
her in some book of history or the verses of some oriental poet. She was
a Queen!--yes, she was a Queen! Well, what of this Zuleika?"
He stood as if waiting for some Arabian romance to be unfolded to him,
with parted lips and a vacant smile sorrowful to see.
Since his interview with the old Count Massetti Maximilian's hope for
the success of his difficult mission had been but a very slender thread.
Now that thread was stretched to its utmost tension, and Zuleika's
ambassador felt that it must shortly snap asunder and vanish
irrecoverably. Love is ever a potent influence with man but this poor
demented creature appeared to have lost even the faintest conception of
the crowning passion of life, since Zuleika's name, the name of his
betrothed, had failed to awaken his memory or touch a sympathetic chord
in his bosom.
As Maximilian stood uncertain what to do next, but as yet reluctant to
abandon the miserable Viscount to his fate, Valentine came to him and,
placing her hand on his arm, said:
"My husband, it is useless to endeavor to move this unfortunate man in
his present condition; his mind is incapable of rational action. Only by
care and soothing influence can he be restored to himself. He must be
induced to accompany us to some asylum, some institution where he can be
treated for his dreadful malady."
"You are right, Valentine, as you always are," answered M. Morrel. "The
course you suggest is the only one to be taken at this juncture. But how
is Giovanni to be induced to accompany us? Force cannot be employed--we
have no legal right to use it--and I greatly fear that the Viscount will
not follow us of his own accord, no matter to what solicitations we may
resort."
"Trust that to me, Maximilian," rejoined Valentine, sweetly and
persuasively. "Remember what I said about a woman's wit and tenderness."
"I remember it, and now, if ever, is the time for the trial of their
power, for I have utterly failed. But, surely, Valentine, you do not
propose to risk dealing with this poor man whose mind is reduced to
chaos and who might, in a sudden access of unaccountable fury, do you
harm even before I could interfere?"
"I certainly do propose dealing with him! I am an enchantress, you know,
and now you shall witness a further and more convincing proof of the
potency of my spells than was shown in bringing your dead hope to life!"
Maximilian was not altogether satisfied with his wife's heroic