TWO INTERVIEWS.
The morning following the events detailed in the last chapter, as
Esperance was in his dressing-room preparing to take a short stroll
through Paris, Ali knocked at the door and signified that M. Dantes
wished to see him at once in the library. As such a summons was
something unusual, the young man immediately concluded that Zuleika had
been in consultation with her father and that he would now have to
submit to a close and rigid examination; he had expected such an
examination, but, nevertheless, the summons filled him with dismay and
he grew pale as wax, his limbs trembling beneath him and his hands
working nervously; however, he braced up as well as he could, and with
as firm a step as it was possible for him to assume walked toward the
library. On the threshold he paused, and his courage so utterly forsook
him that he was tempted to take refuge in flight, but the thought
flashed through his mind that this would be cowardly, and, making a
supreme effort to control himself, he entered his father's presence.
M. Dantes, who was seated at his writing-table examining a curious
manuscript written in Arabic characters, looked up as he came in and
fixed his eyes searchingly upon his son's countenance, noting its
extreme pallor and remarking with manifest uneasiness the difficulty
Esperance experienced in maintaining a firm demeanor. Motioning the
young man to a seat, he said:
"My son, I have sent for you on a matter of the utmost importance, and I
sincerely hope you will see fit to tell me in all frankness whatever you
may know in regard to it."
Esperance partially closed his eyes as if suffering intensely, bringing
his teeth firmly together and compressing his lips. As he did not speak,
M. Dantes continued:
"I have every reason to believe that the revelation I am about to ask of
you will be exceedingly painful for you to make, but you must consider
that your sister's happiness is deeply concerned and that, for that
reason, no matter what may be your motives, you have not the right to
maintain silence."
"I know what you mean, father," replied Esperance in an unsteady voice,
"but, notwithstanding the pain it gives me to do so, I must ask you,
nay, entreat you not to question me, for I cannot answer you!"
M. Dantes cast upon his son a glance that seemed to pierce him through
and through; the young man quailed beneath it and again partially closed
his eyes, while a faint blue shade was mixed with the waxen pallor of
his visage. The Deputy, though he had made a profound and exhaustive
study of men and their varied motives, though he was a skilled anatomist
of the human heart and a ready reader of the human countenance,
acknowledged to himself that this time he was completely baffled. Was it
fear or guilt that Esperance exhibited? He could not tell; but it was
abundantly evident that the young man was not acting a part, that he
keenly felt the suspicions to which he was exposing himself by his
inexplicable conduct. At length M. Dantes said, in a mild but determined
tone:
"Esperance, my son, you can, at least, enlighten me upon a few points,
and I request, nay, I command you to do so. Are you bound by oath to
preserve silence concerning this matter?"
"I am bound by a most solemn oath!" answered the young man with a
shudder.
"And is Giovanni Massetti likewise so bound?"
"He is!"
"I will not ask you who administered that oath to you or under what
circumstances it was taken, although as your father I have a right to do
so and to compel you to answer; neither will I interrogate you further
in regard to the main question at issue, the complication in which you
and the Viscount seem to be so hopelessly involved; but I insist that
you inform me whether any guilt or stain of dishonor rests upon you!"
"Father," said Esperance, rising and lifting his right hand toward
heaven, "I solemnly swear to you that whatever wrong may have been done,
whatever crime may have been committed, I am entirely guiltless and that
there is not the slightest stain of dishonor upon me!"
"I believe you, my son," said M. Dantes, in a tone of conviction, "and
this unequivocal assurance from your own lips removes the weight of a
mountain from me. Now, tell me, is the Viscount Massetti as blameless in
this affair as you are?"
"The so-called Viscount Massetti is a black-hearted villain!" cried
Esperance, excitedly. "He is guilty of a foul and revolting crime, a
crime that should condemn him to a life of penal servitude!"
"But may you not be mistaken, may you not be the victim of some
delusion?" asked M. Dantes, anxiously.
"I am neither mistaken, father, nor the victim of a delusion," replied
Esperance, positively. "The charges that I make against that miserable
apology for a man I can fully substantiate should the proper opportunity
ever be offered me!"
"Zuleika informed me that, while you were speaking with her upon this
mysterious subject, the name of Luigi Vampa escaped your lips. Does that
notorious brigand posses a knowledge of this unfortunate matter?"
Esperance became violently agitated and instantly answered:
"That is a question my oath forbids me to reply to!"
"So be it," said M. Dantes; "but I have written him and he will reply
for you!"
"You have written to Vampa!" exclaimed the young man, with a
terror-stricken look. "Then all is lost!"
M. Dantes smiled, and, rising, placed his hand on his son's shoulder.
"Esperance," said he, calmly, "if neither crime nor dishonor attaches to
you in this affair, as you have sworn, you have nothing whatever to
fear, and, besides, Vampa's disclosures may relieve you of some portion
of your heavy burden."
"Oh! God!" groaned the young man, "if Vampa speaks how shall I be able
to prove my innocence!"
"My son," said M. Dantes, impressively, "God, whose name you have
invoked, will not desert you in your hour of need!"
Bowing his head in his hands and trembling like an aspen leaf, Esperance
quitted the library with a convulsive sob, as if the last ray of hope
had been withdrawn from his life and all was darkness and despair.
M. Dantes threw himself in his chair and for an instant was plunged in
absorbing thought; then he arose and putting on his hat and cloak left
the library; a few moments later he had quitted the mansion by a private
door.
Closely muffling his face in the folds of his cloak, that he might not
be recognized, the Deputy from Marseilles passed hurriedly from street
to street until he stood before a massive building in the Rue Vivienne.
He rang the bell, and, when the concierge appeared, said to her:
"Is the Viscount Massetti at home?"
The woman, a large, fat, lumbering creature, cast a sleepy glance, that
was half-curious, half-suspicious, at him and answered:
"Yes, Monsieur; but he bade me deny him to everybody."
"He will see me, however, my good woman," said M. Dantes. "Take my card
to him."
The fat concierge took the card and glanced at it; when she read "Edmond
Dantes, Deputy from Marseilles," she stared at the famous Republican
leader like one possessed; then, filled with awe, she hastened away and
climbed the stairs as fast as her cumbersome legs would let her. She
returned, panting and puffing, followed by the Viscount's valet, who,
with much ceremony and obsequiousness, conducted the distinguished
visitor to his master's apartments.
The salon into which M. Dantes was ushered was large and sumptuously
furnished; evidences of wealth and luxury were visible on every side,
while everything displayed the utmost taste and elegance.
"To what am I indebted for the honor of this unexpected visit, my dear
Count?" said Massetti, rising from a handsomely carved, red velvet
upholstered arm-chair, in which he had been indolently reclining, and
coming forward to greet his guest.
"To a matter that concerns both of us deeply," replied the Deputy, in a
meaning tone.
A shadow crossed the Viscount's handsome visage, but it was gone in an
instant, and he said, with the utmost politeness:
"Pray be seated, my dear Count, and before proceeding to business
refresh yourself with a glass of rare old Burgundy. Here, Stephano, wine
and glasses."
M. Dantes sat down in an arm-chair precisely resembling that from which
the Viscount had arisen; Massetti resumed his seat and the valet brought
the old Burgundy and glasses, placing the decanter and drinking vessels
on a small table of glistening ebony between his master and the Deputy.
After they had duly drunk each other's health, M. Dantes said:
"I regret, my dear Viscount, that I am compelled to disturb you, but my
business was too urgent for delay."
"You don't disturb me in the least. Pray proceed."
"You remember your conversation with my daughter just before you and she
parted, do you not?"
"I remember it," replied the Viscount, coloring slightly and evidently
growing ill at ease.
"In that case, neither preface nor explanation is necessary. I called to
ask you a few plain questions."
The Italian was now a prey to singular excitement; he grew pale and
flushed by turns, finally rising and pacing the salon in great
agitation.
"Count," said he, abruptly, when he could command his voice, "you are a
man of the world and a cosmopolitan, and, of course, you know that one
often commits folly, especially when the ardent and uncontrollable blood
of youth is rushing through his veins. With this explanation, imperfect
though it be, I must ask you to rest satisfied, for it is utterly out of
my power to give you any other, or to enter into the details of the
unfortunate affair which has brought you here. I assure you, however,
that I am altogether blameless in the matter; investigation will
abundantly establish the truth of what I say."
"I will make that investigation."
"I regret that I can neither empower you to do so nor aid you in it!"
"What am I to understand by that?"
"Simply what I say."
"You are, doubtless, aware that my son makes grave accusations against
you, that he accuses you, in fact, of a dastardly crime."
"Esperance is mistaken, my dear Count; I swear to you that he is
mistaken and that I am as innocent as he is!"
"But Luigi Vampa may have a different tale to tell!"
"Luigi Vampa!" cried the Viscount, coming instantly to a dead halt, and
a sudden pallor overspreading his entire visage.
"Yes, Luigi Vampa; I have written to him and in two weeks will have his
answer!"
"For Esperance's sake, for my sake, for your daughter's sake, destroy
that answer as soon as received and without reading it!" exclaimed the
young Italian, wildly, his pallor increasing to such a degree that his
face resembled that of a corpse.
"Should I be mad enough to do so," said M. Dantes, calmly, "with it all
hope of your marriage with Zuleika would perish!"
"Oh! do not say that, do not say that!" groaned Massetti. "What would
life be worth to me without Zuleika's love!"
"Then deserve that love by clearing yourself, by proving that your
record will bear the light of day!"
"I have sworn to you that I am innocent! Is not that enough?"
"No," replied M. Dantes, coldly. "I must have proof to support your
oath."
"Then you believe me guilty in spite of all! This is the worst blow
yet!"
"It is in your power to completely justify yourself; at least, so you
give me to understand, and yet your refusal will forever separate you
from the woman you love!"
"You fill me with despair!" said Massetti, in a smothered voice, sinking
upon a sofa. "I fain would reveal everything to you, but an awful oath
of silence stands between me and the revelation."
"Then I must wait for Vampa's answer, and shape my course by that!" said
M. Dantes, firmly.
"That answer will destroy both Esperance and myself!" replied the
Viscount, in a hoarse whisper.
"We shall see," returned the Deputy, rising and resuming his cloak; as
he stood at the door of the salon with his hat in his hand, he added: "I
thought you all a man should be, Viscount, and that you would make
Zuleika happy, but my convictions have been sadly shaken. I came here
thinking that love for woman was all powerful in the heart of man, that
it would induce you to speak, even in the face of an oath, perhaps
violently and iniquitously administered; I was wrong; farewell!"
M. Dantes turned slowly and took his departure, leaving Giovanni
Massetti on the sofa plunged in grief and dismay.