Monte-Cristo's Daughter
my heart, with all my soul, and it is because I love you that I will not
fly with you!"
Giovanni kissed her hair rapturously, excitedly, and the beautiful girl,
looking ten times more beautiful in her pleading earnestness, added,
sweetly, persuasively:
"Leave me now, darling. The bell for the pupils to return to the convent
will soon ring and I must not be missed from among them. Leave me, but
remember the maxim, 'Wait and hope!'"
The lover was about to reply when the sound of footsteps suddenly broke
upon their ears. They glanced at each other, startled, uncertain what to
do. Giovanni was the first to recover self-possession. He noiselessly
parted the boughs of the elm and peered cautiously in the direction of
the sound.
"Three men are rapidly approaching," he said, hastily, in a whisper.
"They are almost here!"
Zuleika looked, in her turn, through the branches.
"The gardener and his assistants," she whispered, nearly petrified by
consternation. "They have evidently learned that you scaled the wall and
are in quest of you!"
"See," said Giovanni, breathlessly, pointing to a group behind the men.
"A number of nuns are also coming!"
"They are searching for me! Oh! Giovanni, fly, fly instantly!"
"And leave you to suffer, to bear the weight of my imprudence! Never! I
will stay and protect you!"
"You will not protect me by remaining. You will only compromise us both
the more. Go, I beseech you, go, while there is yet time!"
With tears in her imploring eyes, Zuleika pushed her lover gently
towards the wall. He gazed at her for an instant and then at the
approaching men and nuns, who were now very near.
The girl clasped her hands supplicatingly, then mutely pointed to the
wall.
"It is your wish?" asked Massetti, hurriedly.
Zuleika nodded her head affirmatively, and still more imperatively
pointed to the wall.
"I will obey you," whispered the young Italian, "and I will 'wait and
hope!'"
She had gained the victory. A joyous love-light came into her eyes, for
the moment eclipsing her terror. Giovanni could not resist the
temptation to embrace her, even in the face of the danger that
threatened him. He wound his arms about her yielding form, drew her to
him with a crushing strain, showering burning kisses upon her upturned
lips.
"Farewell," he murmured, reluctantly releasing her, "farewell, my own!"
He turned from her and ran to the wall, scaled it with the agility of a
cat and vanished.
When the gardener and his assistants reached the elm, they found Zuleika
standing there alone. Had they seen Massetti scale the wall? Had they
recognized him? These thoughts shot through the girl's agitated mind.
She gave no attention to her own peril.
The men came to a halt and stood silently by, waiting for the nuns to
arrive. Horror was pictured on their aged countenances, and they stared
at Monte-Cristo's daughter as if she had committed some heinous,
unpardonable crime.
The group of nuns speedily arrived, headed by Sister Agatha, who held an
open letter in her hand. Zuleika gazed at this letter in silent dismay.
It was hers, the one Giovanni had written her! How had it got into
Sister Agatha's possession? She mechanically felt in her bosom where she
had secreted it, as she thought, safely. Her hand touched only the empty
envelope. The note must have fallen upon the floor of the school-room
and been found by some malicious pupil, who, after reading it and
discovering its compromising contents, had surrendered it to the nun,
thus divulging the weighty secret.
Zuleika stood abashed and terror-stricken. No chance of escape now. No
chance for deception had she wished to essay it. The letter told the
whole story, and the proof of its truth was furnished, for was she not
at the appointed rendezvous, and was it not probable that the men and
the nuns had seen Giovanni quit her and scale the garden wall?
The nuns looked as horrified as the old servants, but they were more to
be dreaded; they possessed the power of reprimanding and punishing, and
what punishment would they think too severe in this extreme case? Sister
Agatha spoke. Her tone was milder than Zuleika had expected.
"Oh! mademoiselle," she said, reproachfully, "what is this? A meeting
with a lover, and within these holy precincts dedicated to celibacy,
chastity and sacred things! What will your father, the Count of
Monte-Cristo, say when your conduct is reported to him? You are young,
and allowance must be made for youthful blood and passionate impulses;
but still you have done wrong, very wrong! Is this man, who signs
himself Giovanni and who just left you, your betrothed?"
"He is," murmured Zuleika, blushing and holding down her head.
"With your father's permission, mademoiselle?"
"My father does not object to him," replied the girl evasively.
"In that case your fault is not so great as I at first supposed," said
the nun. "You are pardonable for receiving the man, who, with your
father's consent, is in time to become your husband; but, nevertheless,
in meeting him within the convent grounds you are censurable for lack of
discipline, and also for conniving at a breach of our rule which
excludes all male visitors, save parents or guardians."
Zuleika bowed her head in submission.
"The punishment," continued Sister Agatha, "shall be as light as
possible, however, if you have never before met this man within the
convent grounds."
"I have never met him here before," said Zuleika, "and I only met him in
this instance because--because--"
She hesitated and burst into tears.
"Because what, my poor child?" asked the nun, kindly.
"Because I love him so, and because I was afraid, if I did not meet him,
in his desperation he would seek me out in face of you all!"
"Have you ever written to him since you have been in this school?"
"Never!"
"Has he ever written to you before?"
"You hold his first letter to me in your hand!"
"How was this letter delivered, by what means did it reach you?"
Her face one mass of crimson, trembling from head to foot, Zuleika told
the whole story of her adventure at noon that day. How she had strayed
from her companions without any definite intention; how she had seated
herself within the screening branches of the elm to meditate; how she
had heard the singular noise in the chestnut tree, and, finally, how the
letter, fastened to a stone, had come fluttering over the wall and
fallen at her feet.
The nuns glanced at each other, horrified and amazed at the audacity of
the young Italian.
"Zuleika," said Sister Agatha, "I told you your punishment should be as
light as possible. You have been exposed and reprimanded; the blush of
shame has been brought to your cheek! This, I think, is penalty
sufficient for a first offense, considering also that it was, in a
measure, forced upon you. But beware of a second infraction of our
rules! Now, return to your companions."
So it happened that Zuleika suffered but slightly for the imprudence and
headlong devotion of her lover. Fearing gossip, the Sisterhood of the
Sacred Heart suppressed the matter, and the Count of Monte-Cristo never
heard of it. Zuleika expected ridicule from her companions, but the
warm-blooded, romantic Italian girls, instead of ridiculing her, looked
upon her as a heroine and envied her the possession of a lover daring
and devoted enough to scale the wall of a convent garden.
CHAPTER IV.
A STORMY INTERVIEW.
When Captain Joliette entered the dressing-room of Mlle. d' Armilly,
after quitting the Count of Monte-Cristo at the Apollo Theatre on the
sudden termination of the performance of "Lucrezia Borgia," he found the
prima donna lying upon a sofa and slowly recovering from the effects of
her swoon. Her maid and the ladies of the company, the latter still in
their stage attire, were giving her every attention. It was a strange
and somewhat grotesque scene--a real drama with theatrical surroundings.
The blazing lights, enclosed by their wire spheres, threw a ruddy glare
upon the faces of those present, making them appear weird and witch-like
in their paint and powder. On chairs and tables lay Mlle. d' Armilly's
changes of dress for the performance and her street garments, while upon
a broad shelf in front of a mirror were the various mysterious articles
used in her make-up--rouge, grease-paint, poudre de riz, etc., together
with brushes and numerous camel's hair pencils. A basin filled with
water stood on a washstand, and on the floor was the pitcher, in company
with a heterogeneous collection of stage and street boots belonging to
the eminent songstress. The director of the theatre was standing
anxiously beside the suffering prima donna, mentally calculating the
chances of her ability to appear the following night. Leon d' Armilly
was walking back and forth in the small apartment, wringing his hands
and shedding tears like a woman, while at the open door lounged the
tenor and baritone of the troupe, their countenances wearing the usual
listless expression of veteran opera singers who, from long habit, are
thoroughly accustomed to the indispositions and caprices of prima donnas
and consider them as incidental to the profession.
As Captain Joliette came in, Leon ran to him and exclaimed amid his
tears:
"Oh! how could you bring that odious man to your box! See how the very
sight of him has affected my poor sister!"
At these words Mlle. d' Armilly roused herself and, springing to her
feet, faced the young soldier in a fit of uncontrollable rage.
"How dare you," she cried, her eyes flashing and her voice tremulous
with anger, "come here, to me, after what has occurred to-night!"
"I was not aware, Louise," answered he, apologetically, "that you had
such a terrible aversion to the Count of Monte-Cristo."
"The Count of Monte-Cristo!" exclaimed the director. "Was he in the
house this evening? What an honor!"
The irate prima donna flashed upon him a terrible glance.
"If you consider it an honor to have that monster in your theatre," she
fairly hissed, "I will sing for you no more!"
The humiliated director walked away without making a reply. He deemed
it the part of wisdom not to embroil himself with an eminent artiste who
was capable of bringing him in so much money, and who also was capable,
he thought, of breaking her engagement if she saw fit to do so. He,
therefore, left the dressing-room. The others, seeing that Mlle. d'
Armilly was evidently about to have a hot dispute with her admirer and
that she was sufficiently restored to need no further care, also quitted
the apartment.
When they were alone, the prima donna turned fiercely upon the Captain,
exclaiming:
"And you profess to love me, too! Was it love that induced you to bring
my worst enemy here to-night? It was hatred rather! Captain Joliette,
you hate me!"
"You know I do not, Louise," said the young soldier, warmly. "You know I
love you to desperation!"
"Why then was the so-called Count of Monte-Cristo in your box?"
"I was not aware that you knew him; indeed, I felt convinced that he was
a total stranger to you, and his conduct to-night tended to confirm that
conviction. He looked at you without the slightest sign of recognition;
and so far from being your enemy is he that he gave you louder and more
enthusiastic applause than any other man in the entire theatre."
"It is his art, Captain Joliette! I tell you that man is as cunning as a
serpent and as remorseless as a tiger. Only this morning he sought to
gain access to me, with what iniquitous motive I know not; but I
returned his letter, with an answer that must have galled his pride to
the quick!"
"I saw that answer," said the Captain. "Monte-Cristo showed it to me
himself at his residence, the Palazzo Costi."