ZULEIKA GOES TO M. DANTES.
M. Dantes was sitting alone in his library, busily engaged in reading a
favorite work on the subject of political economy, and from time to time
making copious notes. It was after midnight, and the vast mansion on the
Rue du Helder was as silent as the tomb; the lamp on the Deputy's table
burned brightly, but a large metallic shade concentrated the light and
reflected it upon the table, so that the other portions of the apartment
were shrouded in almost complete darkness.
As M. Dantes read a shadow suddenly fell on the page of his book, and
quickly looking up he saw his daughter Zuleika standing beside him;
tears were in her eyes and a look of melancholy rested upon her
countenance.
"Why child," said her father, in a startled tone, "what is the matter
with you? You are weeping and seem very sad. Has anything happened to
young Massetti?"
"Not that I am aware of, papa," answered Zuleika, in a low voice. "But,
nevertheless, it is of him I wish to speak."
M. Dantes pushed his book from him, motioned his daughter to a seat and
prepared to listen as she did not begin at once, but seemed to
hesitate, he said, kindly:
"I am waiting, little one; proceed."
Thus encouraged, Zuleika summoned up all her strength and, with downcast
eyes, commenced:
"Papa," said she, "in the first place let me assure you that this is no
mere lovers' quarrel, but a matter of the utmost importance that demands
immediate action."
M. Dantes knitted his brows.
"Has the Viscount been guilty of any impropriety toward you?" he asked,
fiercely.
"No, papa, not toward me, but I fear he may have been guilty of
impropriety, or, at least, of indiscretion, with regard to another in
the past."
"A woman, no doubt."
"Yes, papa, a woman--a Roman peasant."
"I heard of some such thing while you were at the convent school in
Rome, but dismissed it as a slander."
"There may, however, be some truth in it."
"But, now I recollect, Giovanni's name was not associated with the
scandal; it was a mere inference on my part that connected him with the
youthful member of the Roman aristocracy mentioned by the gossips."
"Perhaps I am unjust, papa, in reviving your suspicions, but Giovanni's
strange behavior when I asked him the cause of his quarrel with
Esperance and of the continued coldness between them, forced me to think
there was something wrong."
"His quarrel with Esperance? Ah! now I remember, there was a quarrel,
but I imagined it was settled, and that their relations were altogether
friendly."
"They are enemies, papa, or seem to be, and that is not all--Esperance
accuses Giovanni of having been guilty of some infamous deed."
"You have spoken to Esperance then on the subject?"
"Yes, papa."
"And what did he say?"
"He dealt in vague denunciations, and positively refused to give me any
definite information."
"That is singular."
"But what is still more so is that both Giovanni and Esperance seem
bound by some fearful oath not to disclose the dread secret in their
possession."
"Bound by an oath?"
"Yes, papa; but why both of them should have been so bound, unless they
were accomplices, I cannot see; I even went so far as to accuse
Esperance of complicity, whereupon he grew as white as chalk and
protested his entire innocence, and in his confusion uttered the name of
Luigi Vampa."
"Zuleika, Zuleika, you certainly misunderstood your brother; he could
not have mentioned the name of that man! Do you know who this Luigi
Vampa is?"
"Perfectly, papa; Luigi Vampa is a notorious Roman brigand."
"Exactly, my child, and therefore could not possibly have had any
dealings either with the Viscount or Esperance."
"But I am sure of the name, nevertheless. Esperance said Luigi Vampa."
M. Dantes was evidently startled; he arose to his feet and paced the
library excitedly. Zuleika had expected this, and hence was not
surprised. At last her father resumed his seat, and when he again came
within reach of the lamp's rays she saw that his visage was even more
pallid than usual and that he was not a little agitated. She waited for
him to speak, and in a few seconds he did so.
"Zuleika," said he, in a tone of decision, "I will see both the Viscount
and my son in regard to this matter, for now that Luigi Vampa seems to
have had a share in it, close investigation is imperatively demanded."
"You may interrogate them, papa, but I am convinced in advance that you
will derive no information from either of them. The strange power that
holds sway over them you cannot break, but there is one thing you can
do."
"What is that, Zuleika?"
"Write to Luigi Vampa!"
"Write to Vampa? Why should I do that?"
"Because I feel assured that he is in possession of the full details of
the terrible secret, whatever it may be, and will communicate them to
you if you ask him to do so."
M. Dantes gazed at his daughter curiously.
"What makes you think I have such influence over this Roman brigand?"
he asked, sharply.
"Oh! papa, do not be angry with me!" cried Zuleika; "but I have heard
how Vampa released the Viscount de Morcerf at your simple solicitation
without a single franc of ransom, though he had previously demanded a
very large amount from the unfortunate man as the price of his liberty.
I have heard this, and the natural inference I drew was that, if the
brigand chief went so far as to surrender his prey to you, he would
certainly answer your letter and tell you all he knew about the matter
that so closely concerns my happiness and Esperance's good name."
"I am not angry with you, my child," replied the Deputy, in a milder
tone, "for I know how deeply you have this affair at heart. I will write
to Luigi Vampa as you desire, this very night, and in two weeks at the
furthest his answer may be expected, but to-morrow I will talk with
Esperance and then will question the Viscount. Rest assured that this
matter shall be sifted to the bottom. I know the extent of your love for
Giovanni Massetti; I also feel confident that I am not deceived in him,
and that he will be amply able to prove himself entirely worthy of your
hand. I have seen too much of men, Zuleika, and studied them too deeply,
to be deceived in reading character."
"Oh! thank you, thank you ever so much, papa, both for your promise, and
your kind, encouraging words. I, too, have full faith in Giovanni, but
still I cannot rest satisfied until his record is entirely and
conclusively cleared. No one must have the power to breathe even a
suspicion against the good name of your daughter's husband!"
"Spoken like a girl of spirit!" said M. Dantes, his eyes sparkling with
enthusiasm and admiration. "Now leave me, and I will write to Vampa."
Zuleika kissed her father and quitted the library with a much lighter
heart than she had entered it.
M. Dantes, by the exercise of his iron will, had managed to control
himself in her presence, but now that she had gone he gave free course
to his emotions. For a full hour he sat leaning on his writing-table,
his frame convulsed with anguish, and his mind filled with sad
forebodings. He did not for an instant doubt that both Esperance and the
Viscount could clear themselves from any criminal or dishonorable
charge, if they would consent to open their lips, but their silence and
Zuleika's belief that they were bound by some fearful oath gave him
great uneasiness. Besides, his son had mentioned Luigi Vampa's name, and
the thought that the young man was involved in some complication with
the Roman bandit sent a chill to his heart. He was convinced that
whatever had occurred had been merely the result of the folly and
headlong disposition of youth, but this was scarcely a consolation, for
he well knew to what length young men sometimes allowed themselves to be
carried, especially in what they considered a love-affair.
In addition, the more he thought of the half-forgotten Roman scandal,
the more clearly its particulars returned to him. He remembered that a
young and handsome peasant girl had been mysteriously abducted, and that
eventually she had been brought back to her home by one of the shepherds
known to be in league with Luigi Vampa and his band. She asserted that
she had been carried off to the bandits' haunt by her youthful lover,
who had passed for a peasant lad, but was in reality a nobleman. This
was all M. Dantes could distinctly recall, though he was certain he had
heard other details that had slipped his memory. At the period of the
abduction, he now remembered, both Esperance and the Viscount were
temporarily absent from Rome; then followed their return and the quarrel
that had almost resulted in a duel, but had suddenly been patched up
without apparent reason. Had Esperance and the Viscount been concerned
in the abduction? That was a question that only they or Luigi Vampa
could answer, and it was evident the young men would not speak. Vampa
then must be made to speak for them; that was the sole course left to
pursue, for the peasant girl had disappeared immediately after her
return, and her whereabouts were a mystery.
M. Dantes drew writing materials before him and wrote his letter to the
brigand chief; it was brief, but to the point. When it was finished, it
bore the signature, "Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte-Cristo." The Deputy
placed it in the drawer of his table to go by mail the following
morning, having first folded and sealed it. "Thomson and French, Rome,"
was the direction it bore.