Monte-Cristo's Daughter
The Count bowed in acknowledgment of this well-turned speech and,
addressing Annunziata, who, notwithstanding Mme. de Rancogne's
assurances, began to tremble and feel distressed, said:
"Sister Annunziata, I wish to ask you certain important questions as
your Superior has told you. I am pursuing an investigation that promises
to be fruitful in the very best results of the highest possible good.
Sister Annunziata, I wish your aid in clearing the record of an innocent
man, one who has suffered as greatly as you have and for whom you can,
therefore, feel pity and sympathy. I allude to the Viscount Giovanni
Massetti."
The girl gave a sudden start and turned ghastly pale.
"The Viscount Giovanni Massetti?" repeated she, interrogatively, half
doubting whether she could have heard the name aright.
"Yes," said Monte-Cristo, "the Viscount Giovanni Massetti, who has been
falsely accused of having abducted you!"
"Falsely accused!" cried Annunziata. "Why, Signor Count of Monte-Cristo,
the wretched young man is guilty of everything with which he has been
charged, whether the charges were made by persons inimical to him or
not!"
The visitors were still closely watching the peasant girl. They had
expected she would say exactly what she had said and, therefore, were
not in the slightest degree astonished or disconcerted. Her earnestness
and the circumstance that she certainly ought to know the identity of
her abductor were well-calculated to inspire confidence in her
statements and to induce a belief in the guilt of the young Viscount
Massetti.
Monte-Cristo answered Annunziata firmly but considerately.
"Sister," he said, "notwithstanding your belief that Massetti was your
abductor, I know the contrary to be true and have in my possession
indubitable proof of what I assert!"
Annunziata shook her head.
"The proof must, indeed, be conclusive that would shake my belief!" she
said, with a slight trace of bitterness in her tone.
"It is conclusive!"
"But if young Massetti is innocent of my abduction and of my poor
brother's murder, who then, in Heaven's name, is the guilty party?"
"Luigi Vampa!"
"Luigi Vampa?"
"Yes. He forced his way into your cabin on that eventful night, abducted
you and afterwards shot your brother Lorenzo in the forest."
"You say you have indubitable proof of this. How was it obtained?"
"From a man named Peppino, who overheard all the details of the
nefarious bargain and conspiracy entered into by the brigand chief and
old Pasquale Solara."
"Pasquale Solara? My father! Oh! Signor Count, what do you mean?"
"Be calm, my child, and listen to me. Your father despicably sold you to
Luigi Vampa for a large sum of money and they together so arranged the
abduction that all suspicion would fall with crushing force upon the
shoulders of the young Italian!"
Annunziata put her hand to her forehead and stood still, rooted to the
spot by horror and amazement. She had no great love for her moody and
morose father, who never had done anything calculated to inspire
affection for him in the bosom of his daughter, but, at the same time,
it seemed incredible and horrible to her that her parent should have
been guilty of this unnatural behavior towards her, of this unmanly
conduct with regard to an innocent guest who in all confidence was
partaking of the hospitality his roof afforded. She looked at
Monte-Cristo doubtingly and then at Mme. de Rancogne, who was smiling
upon her encouragingly.
"As God is my judge," said she, solemnly, "I believe Giovanni Massetti
to have been my abductor!"
"Of course," returned Monte-Cristo, "but you are in error!"
"I saw his face! Surely I ought to have been able to recognize that!"
"Certainly; but, I tell you, everything was so arranged as to deceive
you into believing the young Italian the criminal, the despicable wretch
who had failed to respect a woman's honor!"
"It may be as you assert, but I cannot rid myself of my firm and
deep-rooted belief in the matter. I have forgiven the Viscount Massetti
for the foul wrong he did me, but to the latest day of my earthly
existence I shall believe him guilty!"
Suddenly fixing her eyes upon Zuleika with a gaze of bewildering
intensity, Annunziata stood as if anxious to speak to her of some very
important topic.
Monte-Cristo's daughter divined this, and, going to the former
flower-girl, said to her:
"Is there anything I can do for you, Sister Annunziata? If so you have
only to ask it!"
Annunziata laid her hand upon Zuleika's shoulder, asking, in a tone that
notwithstanding all her efforts to control it was not a little unsteady
and tremulous:
"Do you love him?--do you love the Viscount Massetti?"
"Yes," answered Zuleika, lowering her eyes beneath the intensity of the
other's look.
"So I thought, but oh! daughter of a noble family, beware of the
perfidious young man! He will not hesitate to deceive you as he deceived
me! Then he will leave you to your fate as he left me to mine, and
life-long sorrow and misery will be your portion!"
Zuleika gazed pityingly at the peasant girl.
"You loved him once, did you not?" she asked.
"Perhaps I did, perhaps I did not!" replied Annunziata. "I do not know!
Certainly my heart spoke for him, but that may have been only friendly
esteem! However, after the abduction and the horrible and disgraceful
events that followed it, I grew to hate him with the bitterest
description of hate! I have told you that I have forgiven him and it was
the truth. I have forgiven and am endeavoring to forget him!"
There was a suspicious glitter in the girl's eyes as she spoke,
something that hinted of the presence of tears, but the glitter passed
away and, turning to Mme. de Rancogne, she said:
"Are your guests through with questioning me, Madame the Superior?"
Mme. de Rancogne glanced inquiringly at Monte-Cristo, who nodded his
head affirmatively.
"The interview is concluded," replied Helena, "and now, if you so
desire, you can return to your apartment."
Annunziata, more affected and agitated by what she had just passed
through than she cared to admit, bowed to the visitors and the Superior
and hastily quitted the salon.
"Poor girl! she remains perfectly unconvinced!" said Monte-Cristo, after
her departure.
"And she is right!" rejoined Mme. de Rancogne, warmly. "I have heard all
the details of her story and the chain of evidence against the Viscount
Giovanni Massetti is altogether complete. To doubt his guilt would be
sheer idiocy!"
After a sojourn of a few hours longer at the Refuge, Monte-Cristo and
his party returned to Rome to go actively to work in Massetti's cause.
CHAPTER XXVI.
VAMPA AND MONTE-CRISTO.
After his fearful and exhausting duel with old Pasquale Solara in which
he had been so nearly vanquished and so signally favored by Fate, the
Viscount Massetti dragged himself rather than ran through the chestnut
grove by the roadside, pausing now and then to glance back through the
trees and note what was taking place among Vampa's bandits. His wounded
antagonist was evidently unconscious, for the brigands were bending over
him, some of them seeming to be engaged in endeavors to restore him to
his senses. Another circumstance tending to confirm this supposition was
the absence of pursuit, for had the shepherd been able to give even the
most fragmentary information relative to the encounter, Vampa's men
would have immediately devoted their attention to a search for his
successful assailant, and in Giovanni's present condition of exhaustion
his capture could not have been doubtful.
The young Italian did not waste a moment, but made his way towards Rome
as rapidly as he was able, though his progress was necessarily toilsome
and painful in the extreme. Having at length reached the bank of a small
brook at a safe distance from the scene of the conflict, he washed the
dust and sweat from his face, and held his benumbed hand in the cool,
limpid water until the blood resumed its normal circulation. Then he
arranged his torn and disordered garments so as not to attract too much
attention from the curious pedestrians he would be sure to meet on the
outskirts of the city, resuming his journey strengthened and refreshed.
Contrary to his expectations he eventually gained the Hotel de France
without exciting any special observation or comment. Once in his own
apartment he carefully locked the door and, casting himself upon his
bed, breathed freely for the first time since old Solara had fallen by
his hand.
His thoughts, however, were not altogether of a reassuring nature. He
had taken an Italian's vengeance upon the despicable old Pasquale
Solara, who certainly merited all he had received, but how would
Monte-Cristo look at the affair when he learned of it as he most
assuredly would when he began his campaign against Vampa, if not before?
Undoubtedly with strong disapprobation and displeasure. The Count had
cautioned him to keep out of sight, to restrain his impetuosity, and he
had done neither. On the contrary he had shown himself to the shepherd,
declared his identity and assumed the responsibility of dealing with
him, though, to be sure, he had given him a chance to defend himself. If
Solara was dead, if he had expired without making any revelation, his
secret was secure and even Monte-Cristo could not unearth it, but would
not the death of old Pasquale deprive the Count of a most important
witness, a most important factor in his rehabilitation? Perhaps so,
perhaps not, for it was by no means certain that Monte-Cristo could
force Solara to confess and make at least partial and tardy amends for
his atrocious misdeeds. It was highly probable that Annunziata's
wretched father, even if brought to bay, would persist in preserving a
stony and unbroken silence, would make no admissions whatever. Taking
this view of the matter the Viscount felt relieved and, composing
himself on his couch, yielded to the influence of extreme fatigue and
fell asleep. His slumber was profound and dreamless. Exactly how long he
slept he knew not, but meanwhile an event as unexpected as it was
portentous occurred almost within earshot of where he lay, an event
brought about by his rash and inconsiderate action of that morning.
Monte-Cristo's salon was opposite to Massetti's chamber, a wide corridor
separating the two apartments. It was late in the afternoon and the
Count, seated at his desk, was pondering over his plans in relation to
the Viscount. Matters had not progressed as swiftly as he had hoped.
Besides, much further delay seemed inevitable. Maximilian, of course,
could do nothing, for the present at least, and Valentine's ability to
be of use was limited to encouraging Zuleika and exercising a proper
degree of surveillance over the lovers when such surveillance was
possible. Peppino and Beppo, too, were comparatively useless, though by
careful and well-directed inquiries they had ascertained that Luigi
Vampa and his band had changed their quarters from the old rendezvous,
locating in a fastness that could not be approached without great
difficulty and danger. None of the brigands now visited Rome and even
Vampa himself seemed distrustful of the future. According to the
intelligence gathered by Peppino and Beppo he constantly went about in
various disguises that defied detection, studiously avoiding all his
accustomed haunts. With regard to the brigand chief's actions
Monte-Cristo could entertain but one of two opinions--either he was
filled with remorse for his shameful conduct towards poor Annunziata
Solara and for his complicity with old Pasquale in bringing the innocent
Viscount under suspicion, which was doubtful, or he was afraid that
Roman justice stimulated by young Massetti and such friends as he still