ESPERANCE AND ZULEIKA.
During the whole period of the memorable Revolution Zuleika never once
saw her brother, though she was burning with a desire to have an
interview with him on the subject that had caused the separation between
her young Italian lover and herself. Esperance made his home behind the
barricades, from the time the struggle began until the people finally
triumphed; gun in hand, he fought as heroically as the most devoted
workman, fearlessly exposing himself whenever the troops pressed his
comrades in arms and always in the thick of the fight. Begrimed with
dust and powder, his garments torn by bullets and bayonet thrusts, his
hat battered and rent, he encouraged the people by word and example,
constantly shouting "Vive la Republique," and contending for liberty
with the bravery of a lion and a persistency that never flagged. He,
however, escaped without a single scratch, returning to the paternal
mansion utterly worn out, but altogether unhurt, proud of having done
his duty as a man and a patriot, and of having sustained the glorious
cause for which his father was working heart and soul.
As he was slowly and wearily wending his way homeward, he suddenly
encountered M. Dantes and his friend Lamartine in the Rue Richelieu; his
gun was on his shoulder, and in his tattered attire, with the dust and
powder on his face and hands, he had the exact appearance of an
insurrectionist and a barricader. He touched his hat in military fashion
to M. Dantes and his illustrious companion, and was about passing on
when his father recognized him and, ragged and begrimed as he was, threw
his arms enthusiastically about his neck. M. Lamartine watched the
Deputy from Marseilles and could not restrain an expression of
astonishment at his singular behavior. M. Dantes smiled and, taking
Esperance by the hand, said:
"M. Lamartine, you will, I know, make every allowance for me when you
learn that this young man, who has been fighting behind the barricades
with the people, is my son!"
The head of the Provisional Government instantly grew as enthusiastic as
M. Dantes himself; he grasped Esperance's free hand and, shaking it with
the utmost cordiality, exclaimed:
"Your son, M. Dantes! Let me congratulate you! Why he is a perfect
hero!"
"I have but followed my father's teachings and done what he would have
done had he been my age and unable to serve the great cause of human
freedom in a more effective way!"
M. Dantes' eyes sparkled with joy and a faint shade of color appeared
upon his pale cheeks.
"What is your name, young patriot?" asked M. Lamartine, his excitement
and enthusiasm continuing to hold possession of him.
"Esperance," was the reply.
"Esperance--hope--the name is both appropriate and auspicious; with such
heroic young men as you fighting for our cause there is, indeed, hope,
and of the brightest and best kind!" cried Lamartine.
"Nay, nay," said M. Dantes, "do not flatter the boy; he has but done his
duty."
"Believe me, I do not flatter him," returned Lamartine; "I have simply
told him the truth; in time he will rival the devotion and achievements
of his noble father!"
"Enough, enough," said the Deputy, modestly; "we deserve only the credit
of executing God's will--we are merely instruments in His omnipotent
hand!" he added, impressively.
"And such instruments are exactly what we need in the present crisis.
God grant us plenty of them!"
The next morning Zuleika encountered Esperance on the stairway; she led
him into the salon, and, when they were seated, said:
"My brother, I have a question to ask of you."
A shadow crossed the young man's brow, and he quickly asked:
"Is it about the Viscount Massetti?"
"Yes."
"Then I must refuse to answer!"
"But the matter concerns my happiness, nay, my very life itself; think
of that before you finally refuse to answer my question!"
Esperance hastily and excitedly arose from his chair and stood in front
of his sister.
"Zuleika," said he, in an agitated tone, "beware of that man--beware of
Giovanni Massetti!"
"Beware of Giovanni, Esperance--and why?"
The young man began to pace the salon with short and nervous steps; his
hands twitched convulsively, and his face had suddenly assumed the
whiteness of chalk.
"Zuleika, Zuleika," he murmured, "I cannot, I cannot tell you why! It
would crash you to the very earth and make you blush with shame that you
had ever listened to the seductive tones of that doubly false Italian's
voice!"
"But, Esperance," said Zuleika, "papa certainly knows all about
Giovanni; if he did not altogether approve of his character and conduct,
he would never have consented to admit him as a suitor for my hand!"
"A suitor for your hand, Zuleika! My God! has he then dared----"
"He has done nothing that an upright and honorable man should not do!"
interrupted Zuleika, warmly. "He did not even call here until he had
written to papa and obtained his full permission to do so."
"Zuleika," said Esperance, approaching his sister and taking her hand,
"no doubt Giovanni Massetti has conducted himself in all respects
toward you like a perfect gentleman, but, nevertheless, he is not fit to
be my sister's husband."
"But papa----"
"Has been deceived, as have many others, in regard to the true character
and standing of this so-called Roman nobleman."
"And is he not a nobleman?"
"Once more I must refuse to answer any question in regard to him. I can
only tell you to beware and shun him as you would a venomous serpent."
"Esperance, I love him!"
"Love him!--you love him, Zuleika! Oh! this is, indeed, torture!"
The young man dropped his sister's hand and flung himself upon a divan.
He was a prey to the most intense excitement.
Zuleika, deeply affected to see him thus, and remembering Giovanni's
mysterious behavior, together with his strange and ominous words, when
she had questioned him in regard to his quarrel with Esperance, felt for
a moment shaken and uncertain. She also recollected that, at the time of
the inexplicable difficulty between the two young men, she had heard
rumors to the effect that a youthful member of the Roman aristocracy had
abducted a beautiful peasant girl, in which affair he had been assisted
by the notorious brigand Luigi Vampa; the matter, however, had almost
immediately been hushed up and she had learned none of the
circumstances. Could it be possible that Giovanni Massetti was the
youthful aristocrat alluded to by the gossips and scandalmongers of the
Eternal City--that he was the abductor of the unfortunate peasant girl?
She could not entertain such an idea, and yet that abduction, in spite
of all her efforts, would associate itself with her Italian lover in her
mind.
She arose from her chair and, going to the divan, seated herself beside
Esperance, determined to make a final attempt to draw his secret from
him. Throwing her arms tenderly about his neck she said, in a coaxing
tone:
"If any sound reason exists why I should not love Giovanni Massetti, and
you know it, your plain duty as my brother is to tell me. Will you not
tell me, Esperance?"
Instead of replying, the young man buried his face in his hands and
fairly sobbed in his anguish. Zuleika was filled with pity for him, and,
as she gazed at him, tears came into her eyes; but still bent on
discovering the nature of the obstacle that had so suddenly loomed up
between Giovanni and herself, she continued after a pause, in the same
coaxing voice:
"Esperance, I am no longer a child and should not be treated as one.
What I ask of you is only reasonable and just. If I stand on the brink
of a gulf I cannot see, it is your duty to inform me not only of my
danger but also of its nature. Am I not right?"
Heaving a deep sigh, Esperance replied:
"Yes, you are right, Zuleika; it is my duty to tell you all--and yet I
cannot!"
"At least, tell me why you are compelled to maintain silence on a
matter of so much importance."
"Did you question the Viscount?"
"I did."
"And what answer did he return?"
"Like you, he refused to answer."
"Ah! then he has some sense of shame left!"
"Shame?"
"Yes, shame! And what did you do when he refused to speak?"
"I left him."
"And you will not see him again?"
"Not until he has decided to tell me all."
"Then you will never put eyes upon him more; he dare not tell you!"
"Dare not! And why?"
"Because, did you know the depth of his infamy, you would spurn him from
you!"
Suddenly a grave suspicion stole into Zuleika's mind and made her
tremble from head to foot. Might it not be that Esperance had been as
deeply involved in the mysterious and infamous affair of which he
declined to speak as Giovanni Massetti himself? The thought was torment,
and totally unable to restrain her keen anxiety to be instantly informed
upon this topic, Zuleika gasped out:
"Were you not, Esperance, as guilty as your former friend?"
The young man leaped to his feet as if a tarantula had bitten him.
"No, no!" cried he. "I was innocent of all blame in the matter! Luigi
Vampa----"
He abruptly checked himself and stood staring at his sister, as if in
dismay at having unguardedly uttered the brigand's name.
But Zuleika said nothing. Giovanni Massetti also had protested his
innocence, and the young girl knew not what to believe. Luigi Vampa? So
then he had been a party to this mysterious and terrible business,
whatever it was! And again she thought of the abduction of the beautiful
peasant girl. Could that be the fearful secret? Yes, it must be. Luigi
Vampa had assisted in that abduction, if report could be relied on, and
the chief criminal had been a youthful member of the Roman aristocracy.
Oh! it was all plain now. Zuleika shuddered and felt her heart grow
heavy as lead, while a sharp, killing pang ran through it. Had Esperance
been misled by Vampa and the Viscount? Had he discovered too late the
infamy of the affair and challenged Massetti on that account? This was,
doubtless, the solution of the whole enigma, and yet Zuleika hesitated
to accept it as such. No, no, she could not accept it without further
and more convincing proof! But how was that proof to be obtained?
Neither the Viscount nor her brother would speak; it was evident that
their lips were sealed; possibly an oath to maintain silence had been
extorted from them under terrible circumstances--an oath they feared to
break even to clear themselves from a foul suspicion. But Vampa? He
might, perhaps, be induced to give the key to the mystery. Vampa,
however, was far away in Rome and inaccessible. Zuleika made a wild
resolve--she would write to the brigand and throw herself upon his
generosity; then she decided that the plan was impracticable; her letter
would never reach Vampa--it would be seized by the Roman authorities and
might cause additional trouble by reviving a smothered scandal--and even
should it reach the brigand, would he answer it? The chances were a
hundred to one that he would not. At this instant an inspiration came to
the tortured girl like a flash of lightning. Her father had known Vampa
in the past, and, perhaps, still possessed some influence over him. She
had heard the story of Albert de Morcerf's adventure in the catacombs of
Saint Sebastian, and was aware that the brigand chief had released him
from captivity without ransom at her father's simple solicitation. Would
not Vampa answer her questions if M. Dantes could be influenced to write
him and ask them? She had full faith in her father's power to get a
letter to the bandit notwithstanding all the vigilance of the Roman
authorities. Yes, she would go to him, tell all her suspicions without
reserve and beg him to write the letter; it was hardly likely he would
refuse; he could not, he must not. Thus resolved, Zuleika looked her
brother full in the face and said, calmly:
"I see I torture you with my questions, Esperance, that for some reason
best known to yourself you cannot answer them, and that it is useless
to torment you further. But something must be done and that at once. I
am going to my father!"
Esperance caught her wildly by the arm.
"You are mad!" cried he.
"It is you who are mad--you and Giovanni! I tell you, I am going to my
father; if you are innocent, you have nothing to fear from any
revelation I may make!"
With these words she freed herself from her brother's grasp and quitted
the salon, leaving Esperance standing in the centre of the apartment as
if he were rooted to the spot.