Monte-Cristo's Daughter
Zuleika stood in the midst of all this decayed grandeur, lost in wonder,
utterly bewildered by what she beheld. She spoke not a single syllable,
for words were inadequate to express her deep amazement.
Monte-Cristo threw himself upon the divan from which a cloud of stifling
dust arose. Taking one of the chibouques in which a supply of Turkish
tobacco yet remained, he lighted it and began to smoke.
Zuleika now saw that the heavy, delicious perfume with which the grotto
palace was filled came from frankincense smouldering in a huge malachite
vase placed in the centre of this bewildering chamber.
After he had puffed a few whiffs of smoke from the chibouque,
Monte-Cristo removed the amber mouthpiece from his lips and rising said:
"You have now seen my subterranean abode, Zuleika, the abode where in
the past I sought refuge from the world and solace for my woes. It seems
to you like the product of some potent magician's spell and, in truth,
it was so, but that magician was good fortune and the spell was colossal
wealth, to the vast and subtle influence of which all nations and all
lands yield slavish submission and implicit obedience! You do not know
the romantic, incredible history of this abode, my daughter, and it is
not my intention to relate it to you, for your youthful brain could
scarcely comprehend it. Be satisfied then with what you have beheld.
Treasure it in your memory if you will either as a reality or merely as
a passing vision, but do not, I conjure you, ever mention this adventure
to me or any other living soul! I have had confidence in you, my child;
repay that confidence by strictly obeying this wish, nay, this command,
of mine! These grottoes belong to the past and to oblivion; to the past
and to oblivion, therefore, let them be consigned! Promise me to do as I
desire!"
Amazed by this strange speech, which the Count uttered in a voice
tremulous with emotion, as much as by any of the inexplicable wonders
she had seen, Zuleika replied, in a tone full of agitation:
"I promise, solemnly promise, father, to fulfil your injunctions in this
matter to the very letter! I have a woman's curiosity and a woman's
inclination to gossip," she added, with a faint smile, "but for your
dear sake I will repress them both, at least, so far as concerns this
truly marvellous subterranean palace and our visit to it to-day!"
"And you will keep your word, my noble child!" said Monte-Cristo, gazing
tenderly and admiringly at her. "Now I will remove this Tunis dress in
which I have been, without doubt, exceedingly ridiculous in your eyes,
for you are altogether unacquainted with the associations that surround
it and endear it to me, dignify it, so to speak, beyond any other
costume I have ever worn!"
Zuleika lifted her hands in protest, exclaiming:
"You could not, dear father, appear ridiculous in my eyes, no matter in
what garb you were clothed!"
Monte-Cristo smiled approvingly, but a trifle incredulously and quitted
the circular apartment. When he returned he was clad in the costume he
had worn on coming from the yacht.
"Take a last look around you, Zuleika," he said, in a tone he vainly
endeavored to render firm. "We are now about to quit this place
forever!"
He took her hand and led her from the room. Slowly and as if regretfully
they passed through the salle-a-manger and the apartment they had first
entered, gaining the stairway and preparing to ascend it. At the foot of
the steps Monte-Cristo paused and turned to Ali. He was ghastly pale and
trembled slightly. With a powerful effort he, however, controlled his
agitation.
"Ali," said he, in a voice that sounded strangely in Zuleika's ear, "is
everything in readiness?"
The faithful Nubian, scarcely less affected than his master, bowed
affirmatively.
"Then farewell, ye grottoes of Monte-Cristo!" cried the Count,
excitedly. "Farewell forever!"
He hastily mounted the stairway, almost dragging Zuleika with him. Ali
remained below.
When they reached the open air they paused until the mute joined them;
then the little party regained the beach, where Monte-Cristo waved his
handkerchief thrice. In obedience to this signal the boat immediately
left the yacht and was pulled swiftly to the shore.
A few moments later the Count, Zuleika and Ali were safely deposited on
the Haydee's deck and the gallant little vessel turned her prow towards
the Italian coast.
Monte-Cristo and his daughter, with Ali at a short distance from them,
stood closely watching the fast disappearing island. The Count was more
agitated and paler than he had yet been. Nervous tremors shook his frame
and his teeth were firmly clenched. The usually impassible countenance
of the faithful Nubian mute wore an expression of blank horror. Zuleika
gazed at her father and then at the servant. She knew not what to make
of their strange, inexplicable emotion. Placing her hand upon the
Count's shoulder, she was about to speak to him, to endeavor to calm his
agitation, when suddenly there was a loud explosion on the Isle of
Monte-Cristo and a huge column of black smoke shot up into the air.
The Count covered his face with his hands as if to shut out the sight.
Ali fell prostrate upon the deck, pressing his contorted visage against
his master's feet.
"What was that, oh! father, what was that?" cried Zuleika, clinging to
the Count in wild alarm.
"The subterranean palace of the Isle of Monte-Cristo is no more!" he
replied, sadly. "At my command it replaced with its magnificence the
rude and shapeless grottoes, at my command it has perished!"
As he spoke the rocky island was gradually lost to view in the distance,
and the Haydee sped over the waves of the Mediterranean like some
glorious water-fowl in full flight.
CHAPTER XXI.
ZULEIKA LEARNS THE TRUTH.
Nothing occurred to impede the progress of the Haydee and, after a rapid
and pleasant voyage, the beautiful craft cast anchor in the harbor of
Civita Vecchia, the principal seaport city of the Pontifical States,
which owes its origin to the Emperor Trajan. The strict quarantine
regulations of the place caused a brief delay, which Monte-Cristo and
Zuleika bore with ill-concealed impatience, but the period required by
law for purification at length expired and the travelers were accorded
official permission to proceed to Rome. Of this they immediately availed
themselves and in a short time were in the Eternal City comfortably
installed in the best apartments the Hotel de France afforded.
The Count's first care was to send his card to M. and Mme. Morrel, who
at once hastened to his parlor, where the most cordial greetings were
exchanged. That Monte-Cristo should be in Rome did not in the slightest
degree astonish Maximilian and Valentine, who were fully aware of his
habit of suddenly making his appearance in unexpected spots apparently
without motive, but the presence of Zuleika at this critical juncture
both surprised them and filled them with consternation. What answer
should they make to her when she inquired concerning Giovanni? How was
the fact of his sad condition to be kept from her when all Rome knew of
it and it was the current gossip of the city? Valentine had written
several letters to the girl since quitting Paris, but in them had dealt
only in generalities; she had studiously refrained from informing her of
the true state of things, hoping against hope that she would eventually
have some cheering intelligence to impart. The Count, however, speedily
relieved the devoted husband and wife of their anxiety. He knew as well
as they that his daughter could not fail soon to learn that the Viscount
was a maniac and preferred to break the terrible news to her himself. As
soon, therefore, as the greetings were over, before Zuleika could
whisper to Mme. Morrel the question that was trembling on her lips, the
dreaded inquiry as to her lover and his whereabouts, he said, in a quiet
tone:
"Maximilian and Valentine, you, no doubt, wonder why we have come to
Rome, what is our business here. I will tell you. We have come to clear
an unfortunate man, the Viscount Giovanni Massetti, of a fearful charge
that has long hung over him."
M. and Mme. Morrel exchanged glances. Now was their time to speak, to
avow their mission to Monte-Cristo.
"Count," said Maximilian, pointing to his wife, "we also came hither on
the same errand. Zuleika confessed her love for the young Italian to
Valentine, who extracted from her the nature of the charge to which you
have just alluded. Pardon us for having acted without your
authorization, but we desired to succeed before confessing to you the
part we had taken in the affair."
Monte-Cristo smiled.
"You need no pardon from me," he said, gently, much affected by this
proof of devotion to his daughter and through her to him; "on the
contrary you have my gratitude as well as Zuleika's! But what success
have you met with?"
"Alas! none of any moment as yet," answered M. Morrel, sadly.
"Such a result was to be expected," returned the Count, gravely. "You
had no evidence to establish Giovanni's innocence and it was impossible
for you to obtain any. I have the evidence, conclusive evidence! When
the proper moment arrives I will produce it, remove the stain from his
name and confound his enemies!"
"Thank God!" simultaneously exclaimed M. and Mme. Morrel, Valentine
taking Zuleika in her arms, kissing her and clasping her to her bosom.
"But," continued Monte-Cristo, glancing anxiously at his daughter, "the
unfortunate young man must first be taken in hand and cured!"
Maximilian and Valentine again exchanged glances. They felt relieved.
The Count knew all. He was making the disclosure gradually,
considerately. They silently waited for further developments, holding
their breath. Valentine's heart beat almost audibly. Zuleika started
from her arms and gazed at her father with anxious, astonished eyes.
"Cured?" she repeated, in a tremulous voice. "Is Giovanni ill?"
"He is, my child," answered the Count.
What would he say next? How much was he going to disclose? Surely not
the whole of the dreadful truth! These thoughts shot like lightning
through the minds of M. and Mme. Morrel. Maximilian stood like a statue,
motionless, pale, gazing upon Monte-Cristo as a condemned criminal gazes
upon his executioner. Valentine seized her husband's hand and held it
like a vise.
Zuleika stared at the Morrels; she could not understand their action,
their breathless interest. Then her glance reverted to her father and,
for the first time, she saw that, notwithstanding his apparent calmness,
he, too, was under the dominion of some intense emotion.
"Father!" she cried, clasping her hands appealingly, "what do you mean?
You say that Giovanni is ill, but your look expresses more than your
words! With what fearful malady has he been stricken? Tell me, I conjure
you! I will be strong--I will bear it!"
"My child," said the Count, in a solemn tone, "then summon all your
courage, all your firmness to your aid! Young Massetti, overwhelmed by
his troubles, has fallen a prey to a mental disease!"
"Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" groaned Zuleika, in anguish, "do you mean to say
that he has lost his mind, that he is a lunatic?"
"Such, alas! is the case! But, my daughter, trust in me! I will find
him and science will effect his cure!"
The poor girl, stunned by the terrible intelligence of her lover's
condition, stood for an instant with her eyes stonily fixed upon her
father. Tears refused to come to her relief. Then she tottered,
staggered as if she had been suddenly struck with a heavy missile, and
fell fainting into Valentine's outstretched arms. Maximilian assisted
his wife to place her in a fauteuil, after which he seized the bell
cord.