VAMPA'S ANSWER.
As the time for the arrival of Luigi Vampa's answer to M. Dantes' letter
approached, Esperance grew more and more uneasy and serious; he spent
the greater portion of every day from home, apparently for the purpose
of avoiding his father and sister; when he returned he was moody,
depressed and silent, and far into the night he could be heard pacing
his chamber as if unable to sleep from excitement and anxiety.
Zuleika endeavored to comfort him, but all her efforts were fruitless.
She, poor girl, was herself overwhelmed with her own distress, though
she strove to bear up against it. Massetti had neither written to nor
attempted to see her since their separation, a circumstance she could
not reconcile with his protestations of ardent love for her, and this
served vastly to augment her sadness and anguish, though she still
believed in her soul that the Viscount was entirely innocent of the
crime laid to his charge.
M. Dantes, who had plunged into politics deeper than ever since the
success of the Revolution, was frequently in consultation with the
Republican leaders, and many of them visited him at his residence and
were closeted with him for hours at a time; but, though seemingly
engrossed in State affairs, the Deputy did not lose sight of his son and
daughter, or of the mysterious complication that Vampa was expected to
make clear. Ali had strict orders to watch both Zuleika and Esperance,
and to report to his master whatever they did when at home in his
absence, but the faithful Nubian found nothing amiss, save that the
young people seemed burdened with a sorrow he could not fathom.
At length, when the two weeks that it would take to hear from Rome had
expired, M. Lamartine called one morning at the mansion in the Rue du
Helder, and having finished his business with M. Dantes was invited by
his host to remain to lunch. The repast was served in the
salle-a-manger, Esperance and Zuleika partaking of it with their father
and his illustrious guest. When the edibles had been removed and the
party were taking wine at the dining-table, M. Dantes, suddenly
remembering that he had an engagement, begged M. Lamartine to excuse him
and remain with his son and daughter until his return, that would be in
half an hour at the utmost. This arrangement effected, the Deputy arose
from his chair, threw his cloak over his arm and was about to take his
departure, when Ali appeared on the threshold of the open doorway,
bearing in his hand a letter. Instantly divining that this was Vampa's
answer, upon which hung Massetti's fate and his own, Esperance leaped to
his feet and fixed his wild and staring eyes on the ominous missive as
if he would read its contents through its folds. Zuleika retained her
seat, but lifted her hands in terror and stared at the letter with
pallid cheeks and blanched lips. Even Lamartine turned in his chair and,
holding his glass in his hand, gazed wonderingly at the Nubian and the
epistle. M. Dantes alone seemed unmoved, and his pale countenance gave
no sign of the emotion struggling in his breast; he stood like a man of
iron, and extending his hand took the letter without a tremor. It was
enclosed in a curiously-fashioned envelope, evidently made by the writer
himself, and bore the Roman postmark; the direction, written in bold,
scrawling, but perfectly legible characters, read: "M. Edmond Dantes,
Deputy from Marseilles, No. 27 Rue du Helder, Paris, France. Personal
and private." This direction was in French.
Ali having retired, the Deputy calmly broke the seal and hurriedly ran
his eyes over the missive. Esperance and Zuleika eagerly and
breathlessly watched his countenance while he read, but it was as
impassable as a countenance chiseled from marble; when he had finished
he turned to Esperance and without a word handed him the letter. For a
moment the young man trembled so he could not read; cold perspiration
stood in heavy beads upon his forehead, and vivid flashes of red passed
before his eyes like sheets of lurid lightning. What thoughts, what
suspicions, what dread shot through his tortured mind in that brief
moment, making it seem an eternity of suffering! At last, steadying and
controlling himself by a supreme effort, he read the missive from which
he had feared such terrible consequences. It was in Italian, and ran as
follows:
HIS EXCELLENCY, THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO: You ask me to answer
your questions, and I comply. Pasquale Solara's daughter,
Annunziata, was abducted, from her father's peasant-home by
Giovanni Massetti, known as the Viscount Massetti, who is, no
doubt, the person to whom you allude as now in Paris, for he has
disappeared from Rome. You are right in assuming that he had aid.
He was assisted by a young Frenchman, and that young Frenchman was
your son, Esperance. Annunziata suffered the usual fate of abducted
peasant girls, and was deserted by her dastardly abductor in a
fastness controlled by my band. When the abduction took place,
Annunziata's brother strove to rescue her, but was attacked and
killed by Massetti. Through my means the girl was returned to her
home, but she was miserable there and fled; she is now in an asylum
for unfortunate women founded at Civita Vecchia by the Order of
Sisters of Refuge, and superintended by a French lady, a Madame
Helena de Rancogne, who, as is said, was formerly called the
Countess of Monte-Cristo.[1] It is due to your son to say that he
was entirely misled in regard to the abduction of Annunziata
Solara, and is altogether innocent of crime or intention to commit
it. The whole burden of guilt rests upon the shoulders of the
Viscount Massetti, who, I believe, compelled your son at the
pistol's mouth to take a fearful oath of silence.
LUIGI VAMPA.
When Esperance had read this letter that so effectually cleared him, and
was such a fearful arraignment of the Viscount Massetti, he restored it
to his father and sank into his chair utterly overcome by the terrible
excitement and mental strain through which he had passed. M. Dantes
forced him to swallow a glass of wine that partially restored him; then,
turning to M. Lamartine, who had been an astonished spectator of this
strange and to him incomprehensible family scene, he said:
"My dear friend, you are amazed, and you have a right to be. This letter
that has caused my son and daughter so much emotion comes from a Roman
brigand chief, no other than Luigi Vampa, whose name is notorious
throughout Europe. You will understand its importance when I inform you
that it conclusively clears my son of an exceedingly grave charge."
M. Lamartine arose and took Esperance by the hand.
"I heartily congratulate you," said he.
"And Giovanni Massetti?" asked Zuleika, in a tremulous voice.
"Giovanni Massetti is unworthy of my daughter's hand!" replied M.
Dantes.
"Let me see that letter," said Zuleika, her cheek growing paler and her
heart beating tumultuously.
Her father gave it to her. She took it and read each line with an
intensity of interest that was painful to behold. When she had reached
the end, her eyes suddenly lighted up and the color came rushing back to
her pallid cheeks.
"Esperance," she said, facing her brother with an air of resolution
beneath which he quailed, "Luigi Vampa has not told all! Something he
has kept back, and that something you know. What is it? Speak!"
"Luigi Vampa has told the truth!" replied the young man, doggedly.
"Yes, but not the whole truth. What has he kept back?"
Esperance shook his head.
"He has told the truth!" he repeated.
"Did the Viscount Massetti administer the oath of silence to you?"
"He did."
"Then who administered that oath to Giovanni?"
The young man did not answer.
"There is some mystery about this complicated affair yet unexplained,
and until it is explained I cannot believe Giovanni Massetti guilty!"
"Come, come, my daughter," said M. Dantes, soothingly, "your heart
speaks and not your mind."
"My heart and mind both speak, papa," replied Zuleika, "and both say
that Giovanni Massetti is innocent."
"Let him prove it then."
"I feel certain that he can and will."
"Well, well, child, go to Madame Dantes and take counsel of her. Only a
woman can heal a young girl's love wounds."
Zuleika quitted the salle-a-manger, her countenance yet bearing the
stamp of an inflexible belief and a fixed determination.
"Esperance," said M. Dantes, "your honor is unstained and you are
restored to my heart. I thank God for the blessings of this day!"
"You are a true father, Edmond, as well as a true patriot," said M.
Lamartine, "and I feel assured that your son will be worthy of you and
of our beloved France."
* * * * *
That very day Giovanni Massetti received an unsigned little note,
written in a tiny feminine hand. It was phrased thus:
"I believe you innocent in spite of all! Prove to me and to the
world that you are so."
Enclosed in this little note was Luigi Vampa's letter to M. Dantes.
The next morning it became known that the Viscount Massetti had
disappeared from Paris. Gossip assigned a thousand scandalous motives
for his sudden flight, but gossip could form no idea as to whither he
had fled. Zuleika[2] however, knew that he had returned to Italy to
clear his name and prove himself worthy of her love!
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The exceedingly romantic history of Madame de Rancogne will be found
in that fascinating and absorbing novel, "The Countess of Monte-Cristo,"
published by Messrs. T. B. Peterson & Brothers, a wonderful book that
everybody should read.
[2] A full account, from this point, of the life and remarkable career
of "Zuleika, the Daughter of Monte-Cristo," will be found in the
brilliant, original, and absorbing novel just published by T. B.
Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, in uniform style with "Edmond
Dantes," entitled "MONTE-CRISTO'S DAUGHTER," being the Sequel to
Alexander Dumas' famous novel, "The Count of Monte-Cristo," and
Conclusion of "Edmond Dantes." "MONTE-CRISTO'S DAUGHTER" will be found
to be of unflagging interest, abounding in ardent love scenes and
stirring adventures, while the Count of Monte-Cristo figures largely in
it, and many of the original Monte-Cristo characters are also introduced
into the volume, making it in point of brilliancy, power, and absorbing
interest fully equal to its famous predecessors.
THE END.