Monte-Cristo's Daughter
"Giovanni, dear Giovanni," she murmured, "you are yourself again, are
you not?"
"Myself, Zuleika? Have I ever been otherwise?"
"You have been very ill, Giovanni."
"Ah! yes. That is the reason I am here." Glancing around him he added:
"There is your father, too, but who are those strangers with him?"
"The physicians, and two of our most devoted friends, M. Morrel and his
wife."
The Viscount sank back upon the couch and took Zuleika's hand in his,
clasping it warmly.
"I feel faint and feeble," he said, "oh! so very faint and feeble, but a
terrible, crushing weight seems to have been removed from my brain!"
He spoke rationally. Dr. Absalom had worked a modern miracle--the young
man's reason was fully restored!
The Count and Maximilian exchanged glances of delight. Valentine's eyes
were wet with tears of joy. As for Zuleika, her cup of happiness was
full. Dr. Absalom smiled placidly. The Italian physician advanced and
took him by the hand.
"I congratulate you," said he, cordially. "Your skill is simply
amazing!"
The Hebrew bowed profoundly.
"Doctor," said he, "I have fulfilled my promise and my portion of the
work is done. The rest remains for you to accomplish. You must resume
charge of the patient and restore his strength."
With these words the old savant resumed his hat, saluted all present
and, leaning heavily upon his gold-headed cane, passed slowly from the
apartment.
Monte-Cristo followed him, enthusiastically expressing his gratitude;
taking from his pocket a huge roll of bank-bills, he offered it to the
Hebrew, but the latter firmly refused to accept.
"I remember the Athenian mob, M. the Count!" said he, impressively.
As they passed the director's office, that official came out.
"Well?" said he to Monte-Cristo. "The Jew has failed, of course!"
"He has succeeded!" replied the Count, with a smile of triumph.
"You do not mean to tell me that the patient is restored to reason!"
exclaimed the director.
"That is exactly what I do mean to tell you!" retorted Monte-Cristo,
sharply.
"Humph! there is some cunning trick about this!" cried the official,
returning to his office and abruptly closing the door behind him.
The Italian physician resumed charge of the Viscount Massetti, Zuleika
and Valentine nursing him by turns. In two weeks the young man quitted
the asylum as fully restored in body as he was in mind.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER.
When the Viscount Massetti quitted the insane asylum, Monte-Cristo
provided quarters for him at the Hotel de France where he could be near
both himself and his daughter. During the period of the young Italian's
convalescence the Count had refrained from communicating to him the
details of the foul conspiracy disclosed by Peppino, but no sooner was
Zuleika's betrothed installed in the hotel than he gave him all the
startling particulars. Massetti was not astonished, for he had long
suspected a portion at least of the truth, but his indignation against
old Pasquale Solara knew no bounds, and inwardly he swore to take speedy
and complete vengeance upon him though the Count warned him to be
exceedingly prudent and not to imperil the success of his operations in
his behalf by any rash proceeding. Monte-Cristo did not inform the young
Italian of his plans, distrusting his natural hot-headedness and
impetuosity, but urged him to be content to leave the prosecution of the
scheme of rehabilitation entirely in his hands. The Count had also
instructed the Viscount that in consequence of Peppino's revelations he
had no further objections to his union with Zuleika and that the
marriage should take place immediately upon the full and open
establishment of his innocence in the eyes of the world. At this the
ardent young man was delighted to his heart's core; the certainty of his
approaching happiness and the tenderness the girl exhibited for him
compensated in a large degree for all his trials and tortures, but at
the same time he was impatient of the necessary delay in restoring him
to the possession of an unstained name and reputation, thinking that
Monte-Cristo was much too careful and slow.
He was now permitted to see Zuleika almost constantly and their love
tete-a-tetes were of the most delicious and impassioned description.
They passed hours together upon the vast upper balcony of the hotel in
the soft Italian dusk and moonlight evenings, discoursing those sweet
and tender nothings so precious to lovers and so insipid to
matter-of-fact people whose days of romantic attachment are over.
Sometimes, however, their conversation was of a more practical
character; they spoke of their projects for the future--where they
should go on their bridal tour and what they should do before settling
down to the calm, peaceful existence of placid matrimonial joy. They had
decided to take up their permanent residence in Paris; thus they would
always be near Monte-Cristo, Esperance and Mercedes, near Albert de
Morcerf and his wife, near those friends of friends Maximilian and
Valentine Morrel; besides in the gay French capital, the city of cities,
while enjoying themselves to the utmost they could escape all allusions
to Giovanni's past which they could not possibly hope for did they
settle in Rome, where every time the youthful couple appeared in public
the old scandal, the old charge against the Viscount would undoubtedly
be freshly and perhaps venomously commented upon.
Occasionally, when Zuleika was with her father or in company with Mme.
Morrel, young Massetti would take long walks into the country for the
purpose of breathing the free air and increasing his strength by means
of healthful exercise. During these strolls he shunned every person he
met, it being Monte-Cristo's desire that he should studiously avoid
observation.
The news of Massetti's sudden and marvellous cure had spread throughout
Rome, but people shook their heads when they talked of it and agreed
with the opinion expressed by the director of the insane asylum that Dr.
Absalom had made use of some trick, the influence of which could not be
permanent, but would soon be dissipated, when the poor, deluded Viscount
would instantly fall into a worse mental condition than before.
Undoubtedly the Count Massetti heard of his son's restoration to sanity
and bodily health, but he paid no attention whatever to it, continuing
proudly and haughtily to ignore the fact of Giovanni's existence.
Monte-Cristo had not called upon the aged and inflexible nobleman for
two reasons--he feared that his indignation would get the better of him
in an interview and, besides, he knew it would be entirely useless to
approach the Count without being armed with young Massetti's complete
vindication.
During one of those strolls already alluded to the Viscount went much
further than usual. It was a bright, balmy and cheerful morning, and the
sun's gladdening radiance, the brilliant green of the trees, the
fragrant odors from flowers and grass, the chirping of insect life and
the wild, intoxicating songs of the birds all contributed to draw him on
and to make him forget Monte-Cristo's injunctions as to keeping out of
the sight of the passers-by.
He scarcely noticed in what direction he walked or what road he took,
indulging in a careless, delicious daydream full of dolce far niente
delights. He had fixed his eyes upon the ground and was sauntering
leisurely along when, all at once, he became conscious that some one was
approaching. He hastily looked up. The pedestrian was yet some distance
away, but his heavy shoes clattered upon the gravel of the highway with
a ringing sound. He was evidently an old man and a peasant. In his right
hand he held a staff and his large, broad-brimmed hat was drawn down
slightly over his visage as if to protect it from the heat of the sun.
Giovanni was about to step aside into a little grove of chestnut trees
beside the road there to wait until the new comer had passed, but on
taking a second glance at him something familiar in his aspect suddenly
arrested him, and by one of those inexplicable impulses which sometimes
take possession of a man he paused and waited.
The peasant had also noticed Giovanni and his action, but he did not
relax his pace, did not seem inclined to pay even the slightest
attention to him. He came tramping on, reached the Viscount and passed
him without as much as a nod of the head in salutation. But Massetti
with a start recognized him. With a flush of rage on his face and all
his blood boiling in his veins, he turned, sprang after the old man and
laid his hand upon his shoulder. The peasant abruptly halted, also
turned, and a fierce imprecation escaped his lips. He surveyed the irate
young Italian from head to foot, sneeringly, scowlingly.
"Why, do you stop me?" he said, roughly. "I do not know you."
"But, Pasquale Solara, I know you!" exclaimed the Viscount. "We have met
in good time and in a fit place! The opportunity for which I have long
and impatiently waited has at length arrived! You shall feel the
crushing weight of my vengeance! You shall answer to me for your
despicable, your unnatural crimes! Pasquale Solara, base wretch who sold
your own daughter to a fate worse than death, ignoble scoundrel who did
not respect the dictates of hospitality, I am Giovanni Massetti!"
As he spoke he leaped in front of the morose shepherd, barring his
passage with his body.
"Well, what if you are Giovanni Massetti!" replied old Pasquale, coldly
and defiantly. "I care not for you! Stand out of my path and let me pass
before I strike you to the earth as I would a mongrel, yelping cur!"
With these words he raised his staff menacingly over the young Italian.
The latter with the quickness and agility of a deer sprang at the staff,
grasped it and sent it whirling into the chestnut grove. Then he caught
old Solara by the throat and a terrible struggle at once began. The two
men closed with each other as if in a death-clutch, wrestling like a
couple of athletes. Massetti had not yet regained his full vigor, but
his rage lent him strength. On his side, Pasquale, though old, had
muscles of steel and a grasp like iron. He whirled his adversary round
and round, at times almost overturning him, but the Viscount struggled
manfully, occasionally wrenching the shepherd from his feet and lifting
him bodily in the air. The breath of both came forth in hot, quick,
labored gasps, while their faces were red with exertion. For a long
while the result was doubtful, the strife continuing fiercely without
any decided advantage on either side. Often the Viscount was borne
nearly to the ground but he invariably recovered, straightened himself
up and vigorously renewed the conflict. Not a word was uttered now. The
concentrated energies of the contestants were bent upon the strife,
depriving them of the power of speech. Finally by a rapid movement
Giovanni succeeded in tripping Solara, who fell with a crash, the young
Italian coming down upon his prostrate body with great force and for an
instant almost checking his respiration. Both were partially stunned by
the fall and lay motionless. Massetti was the first to regain possession
of his faculties. He half arose, placed his knees on old Pasquale's
breast and, drawing a pistol, cocked it.
"What are you going to do?" gasped the under man, his terror giving him
the power to speak.
"I am going to kill you, Pasquale Solara!" hissed the Viscount, between
his set teeth.
"Murderer!" shrieked the shepherd, desperately, making a frantic
struggle to rise, but not succeeding.
This ominous word, with all the terrible weight of meaning it conveyed,
struck upon the young Italian's ear like a sound of-doom. A murderer?
Yes, he would be a murderer, if he slew old Solara then and there, and