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. Léon 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, Léon 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 knownot; 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."
"What!" cried Mlle. d' Armilly, with augmented anger. "You saw it, read my very words, and yet brought him to your box?"
"Listen, Louise, and be reasonable. He told me that your name seemed familiar to him and yet he could not recall where or under what circumstances he had heard it. He was astonished at the tone of your reply to his formal and, I must say, very civil note. I was sure there must be some mistake on your part, that you had confounded him with some other person. I had gone to the Palazzo Costi expressly to invite him to hear you sing, to have such a great man present and assist at your triumph! I felt proud of you, Louise, proud of you as an artiste and as a woman, and I wanted my friend of friends to share my exalted appreciation of you. Such were the reasons that induced me to bring him to my box to-night, and, surely, if I committed an error, I deserve pardon for my motives!"
"I will never pardon you, be your motives what they may!" cried Mlle. d' Armilly, vindictively. "His presence ruined the performance and disgraced me, me, Louise d' Armilly, in the eyes of all Rome!"
The Captain stood speechless, appalled by her fury. White with rage, her eyes flashing and her bosom heaving, she looked like some beautiful demon.
"I would have triumphed as usual had he not been here," she continued, furiously and bitterly, "and to-morrow the Eternal City would have been at my feet, I would have been an acknowledged queen, nay, even greater than any sovereign alive, but now I have failed and am nothing! Captain Joliette, for all this you are to blame, and yet you think you deserve pardon for your motives! Why, man, you are worse than an idiot! No, I will never pardon you, never!"
She strode about the dressing-room as she spoke, her small, white hands working as if ready to tear the young soldier to pieces. Joliette watched her for an instant and then said:
"You are a singular creature, Louise, a problem that I must admit I cannot solve. What is the Count of Monte-Cristo to you that you swoon at the mere sight of him? You certainly could not have been in any way associated with his past life, have suffered from the signal vengeance he took upon his enemies years ago!"
Mlle. d' Armilly paused suddenly in her excited walk, and, seizing the Captain by the arm with so strong a clutch that a thrill of pain shot through him, cried, menacingly:
"If you dare to mention Monte-Cristo's fiendish vengeance to me again, I will banish you forever from my presence!"
At that moment one of the officials of the theatre appeared at the dressing-room door.
"A note for mademoiselle," said he, bowing profoundly.
The prima donna took the missive from the man and glanced at the address upon the envelope. As she did so, she knitted her brows and cried out:
"His handwriting! Another insult! I will not read it!"
The official withdrew in confusion.
"Whose handwriting?" asked Joliette, his curiosity and jealousy simultaneously excited. Mlle. d' Armilly had frequently referred to her numerous admirers and the letters she received from them, and the Captain naturally jumped to the conclusion that this note had been sent by some ardent Roman suitor. He considered the artiste's exclamation and assumption of displeasure as mere artful tricks designed to deceive him.
"Whose handwriting?" repeated Mlle. d' Armilly; scornfully. "Must I explain everything to you?"
The young man had borne all his companion in her anger had heaped upon him with comparative equanimity, but he could not bear the idea of a rival, the very thought was torture.
"Louise," he pleaded, "let me see that letter, let me read it."
"What! Must you needs examine my private correspondence! Captain Joliette, you are going too far! You have done enough to-night, without adding insult to injury!"
"I did not seek to injure you, Louise, God knows! Neither do I wish to insult you; but that letter I must and will read!"
"You talk as if I were already your wife andslave. Adopt another and less authoritative tone, monsieur. Captain Joliette, you are not yet my husband!"
"Would that I were and were sure of your love, Louise! The continual uncertainty in which you keep me is insupportable! You refuse to let me read that letter?"
The young man, in his turn, began to pace the dressing-room excitedly, his jealous suspicions growing stronger and stronger.
Mlle. d' Armilly gazed at him triumphantly. She was proud of the vast influence she exercised over this brave and manly warrior. He would stand unmoved before the cannon's mouth, but she could make him quail and tremble!
"You refuse to let me read that letter?" he repeated.
"What if I do not refuse?" said she, in a softer tone.
"You will make me a very happy man!"
"Then read it, for I will not! Thus I show my contempt for its miserable and cowardly author!"
She crumpled the note in her hand and cast it on the floor. Then she placed her foot upon it.
Joliette stooped and took it from beneath her boot. He straightened out the envelope, opened it, removed the missive and read as follows:
"The Count of Monte-Cristo presents his respects to Mlle. d' Armilly, and begs leave to express his deep regret that his presence in Captain Joliette's box was the cause of such a grave catastrophe. He isutterly at a loss to realize why Mlle. d' Armilly should entertain so profound an aversion for him, and why the sight of him should so seriously affect her. If Mlle. d' Armilly would condescend to explain, he would regard it as a special favor. He trusts that Captain Joliette will in nowise be blamed for what has occurred, as that gentleman, when he invited the Count to share his box, was as thoroughly convinced as the Count himself that Mlle. d' Armilly did not know and would not recognize him."
As Joliette read the last lines that so completely cleared him, he could not suppress an exclamation of joy.
"Louise," he cried, "the Count of Monte-Cristo has written to exculpate me!"
"Indeed!" replied the prima donna, contemptuously.
"Yes; he also apologizes to you and asks you to explain why the sight of him so seriously affects you."
"He asks an explanation, does he?" cried Mlle. d' Armilly, her anger resuming sway. "He shall never have one!"
"But you will pardon me, as you see I am altogether blameless?"
"I will hold your pardon under advisement, Captain. My action towards you will be greatly influenced by your future conduct in regard to the wretch who calls himself Monte-Cristo!"
"You surely do not wish me to cast him off, to shun him?"
"Do you prefer him to me?"
"I love you, Louise, love you better than anything or anybody else in the whole world! But I greatly esteem the Count of Monte-Cristo. There are ties between us that you do not understand."
"I do not care to understand them. I have told you that this man is my enemy. That should be sufficient for you. My lover and my enemy cannot be friends. Choose between us!"
"Would you have me quarrel with him?"
"Quarrel with him? Yes; and not only that! I would have you fight him, kill him!"
The young man stood aghast. He was totally unprepared for this explosion, this savage, vindictive demand.
"Fight him, kill him, Louise! You cannot, you do not mean what you say!"
"Am I in the habit of using idle words?"
"Louise, Louise, I entreat you, do not impose such horrible conditions upon me!"
"Are you afraid of Monte-Cristo?"
"I am afraid of no man living, Louise; but I cannot challenge Monte-Cristo to a duel even for you!"
"Then you refuse to protect, to champion me?"
"Oh! Louise, how can you speak thus! I would gladly shed every drop of blood in my veins for you, gladly lay down my life for you, but do not ask me to lift a hand against the Count of Monte-Cristo!"
The beautiful woman looked at the energetic speaker haughtily and discontentedly. She was not a little disappointed. She had thought her influence over her suitor unbounded, but now it appeared thatit had its limits. She, however, did not despair. Well knowing the wonderful fascination she possessed for men, she determined to bring all its batteries to bear upon Captain Joliette. She was bent on wreaking a terrible vengeance upon the Count of Monte-Cristo for some mysterious injury he had inflicted on her in the past, an injury in regard to which she refused to be communicative even to her accepted lover, and was resolved that Joliette should give the highest proof of his devotion to her by becoming the instrument of that vengeance.
With the shrewdness of an experienced woman of the world, she readily saw that a special effort would be required on her part to bend the gallant soldier to her will and compel him to execute her inexorable purpose. She would make that special effort and, in making it, would render herself so captivating, so enticing, so desirable that Joliette could not fail to be intoxicated with her charms and fascinations. Then under the mad sway of his blind passion, excited to the utmost, he would be ready to do anything for her, anything, even to the commission of a crime, even to shedding the blood of his dearest friend!
At this juncture Mlle. d' Armilly, turning from the Captain as if in high displeasure, for it was an important part of her plan to assume a certain degree of coldness towards him at first, touched a bell and immediately her brother Léon and her maid appeared.
"Franchette," she said, addressing the latter, "assist me with my street toilet. I have sufficiently recovered to return to the Hôtel de France."
Unmindful of the presence of the Captain and Léon, the designing prima donna at once began to remove the costume she had worn during the opera. The maid aided her in this operation with the outward impassibility of theatrical servants, though she imperceptibly smiled as she realized that this display of her mistress' personal charms was made solely for the purpose of rendering the young soldier still more the slave of that artful siren.
As Mlle. d' Armilly stood in her corset and clinging skirts of spotless white that delicately outlined her faultless shape, her fine throat, shoulders and arms displaying their glowing brilliancy, Captain Joliette gazed at her like one entranced. Never in all his life, he thought, had he looked upon a woman so thoroughly beautiful, so goddess-like. She was as perfect as a painting of Venus, and a thousand times more lovely for being alive. He held his breath as he saw her bosom palpitate and felt that he would give all he possessed in the world to call her his own, to be with her forever.
Léon seemed somewhat abashed by his sister's proceeding and blushed like a girl, the crimson tide giving his countenance a beauty altogether feminine.
The toilet operation completed, Mlle. d' Armilly surveyed herself triumphantly in the mirror. She was well aware that she had riveted her chains very tightly upon her lover, but, for all that, she could tell only by actual experiment if he were sufficiently under her dominion to accede to her wishes concerning the Count of Monte-Cristo. Hence shedetermined to make that experiment without delay, ere cool reflection had come to the dazzled warrior's aid and enabled him to realize that a trap had been laid for him.
Quitting the mirror, she went to Captain Joliette's side and, placing her hand on his arm, as she threw into his eyes all the magnetism of her glance, said, in a dulcet tone:
"Will you accompany me to the hôtel, Captain?"
The young man joyously assented, and soon an elegant equipage was bearing him swiftly towards the prima donna's apartments.
It was a bright, warm afternoon in spring, and the Piazza del Popolo, Rome's great promenade, was crowded with gay pleasure-seekers of both sexes, while the Corso and the two other principal thoroughfares diverging from this extensive public square were also thronged with young and old. The trees were covered with fresh green foliage, and multitudes of blooming flowers adorned the Piazza and the windows of the adjacent palaces and humble dwellings. Sounds of joy and mirth were heard on every side, while now and then strains of soft music were audible. It was truly a most inspiring scene of light and life. Flirtations were frequent between beautiful dark-visaged girls, with hair and eyes like night, in their picturesque attire, and manly-looking youthful gallants, while here and there sullen and sombre glances spoke of jealousy as fierce as fire, hinting of marital vengeance and love tragedies characteristic of the hot-blooded, impetuous Italians.
In the midst of the throng on the Piazza two youths were strolling, arm in arm. They were the Viscount Giovanni Massetti and Espérance, the son of Monte-Cristo. Fast friends they seemed, and gayly they chatted as they passed leisurely along. Their spiritswere in full harmony with the animated scene around them, and they were evidently not insensible to the charms of the many pretty maidens they encountered and upon whom they cast admiring glances.
Suddenly a peasant girl of dazzling beauty appeared in the Piazza very near them. She was apparently about seventeen, glowing with sturdy health, her full cheeks the hue of the red rose. Her sleeves, rolled above the elbows, displayed perfect arms that would have been the envy of a sculptor. Her feet were bare and her short skirts afforded dazzling glimpses of finely turned ankles and limbs of almost faultless form. Her face had a cheery and agreeable expression, not unmixed with piquant archness and a sort of dainty, bewitching coquetry. She was a flower-girl, and was vending bouquets from a basket jauntily borne on one arm. She addressed herself glibly to the young men she met, offering her wares so demurely and modestly that she seldom failed in finding appreciation and liberal customers. There was not even a suspicion of boldness or sauciness about her, but she had that entire self-possession engendered by thorough familiarity with her somewhat risky and perilous vocation.
Giovanni and Espérance caught sight of her simultaneously. Both were struck by her appearance and demeanor, to which her gaudy but neat and clean peasant costume gave additional éclat.
"What a handsome girl!" exclaimed Espérance, involuntarily.
"A divinity!" replied the Viscount, excitedly.
Then they glanced at each other and laughed,evidently rather ashamed of the admiration they had so enthusiastically expressed.
"Her first words, however, will scatter the illusion to the winds," said Espérance, cynically. "She is, no doubt, as ignorant as she is pretty."
"Quite likely," rejoined Giovanni. "The outside beauty of these peasant girls generally conceals much internal coarseness, not to say depravity."
They were about pursuing their way, when the girl advanced, offering them her bouquets. Her voice was so sweet, so melodious, so deliciously modulated, that the young men paused in spite of themselves. She stood in a most graceful attitude, her parted coral lips exhibiting teeth as white and glittering as pearls. A subtile magnetism seemed to exhale from her that was not without its influence upon the two youths. Besides, her words did not betoken that ignorance alluded to by Espérance or that depravity the Viscount had spoken of.
"Buy some bouquets for your fair sweethearts, signors," she said. "They will gladden their hearts, for the perfume speaks of love!"
"Love!" exclaimed Giovanni, smiling at her earnestness and poetic language. "What do you know of love?"
"Ah! signor," she answered, blushing deeply and averting her eyes, "what girl does not know of love! Even the meanest peasant feels the arrow of the little blind god!"
The young men were amused and interested. Though belonging to the lower class, this poor flower-girl hadcertainly received some education and was endowed with a fair share of the finer feelings. Espérance felt attracted towards her, and Giovanni experienced a fascination not difficult to account for. Separated from Zuleika, filled with a lover's despair, the ardent Viscount was not averse to a little flirtation, more or less innocent. Here was his opportunity; he would cultivate this romantic and handsome girl's acquaintance. Where was the harm? He did not design being unfaithful to Zuleika, and this piquant peasant would be none the worse for brightening some of his sad hours. No doubt she was accessible and would welcome such a diversion, especially as he would pour gold liberally into her lap.
"I will buy some flowers of you, my girl," he said, encouragingly.
"Here is a beautiful bouquet, signor," said the girl, smiling joyously at the prospect of making a profitable sale, and handing him a magnificent selection of fragrant buds and bloom.
Giovanni took the bouquet and, at the same time, gently pressed the girl's taper fingers. They were soft and velvety to his touch. A delightful thrill shot through him at the contact. The flower-girl evinced no displeasure. Clearly she was accustomed to such advances. The Viscount slipped a gold coin of considerable value into her hand, again experiencing the delightful thrill.
"This is too much, signor," said the girl, looking at the coin, "and I have not the change. You must wait a moment until I get it."
"Never mind the change," answered Giovanni. "Keep the whole."
The girl looked astonished at such liberality, then a joyous smile overspread her beautiful visage.
"Oh! thank you, thank you ever so much, signor," she said, effusively, the color deepening on her tempting cheeks. Giovanni with difficulty restrained himself from kissing them.
"What is your name, my girl?" he asked, as she moved to depart.
"Annunziata Solara, signor," she replied, surprised that such a question should be asked her.
"Where do you live?"
"In the country, just beyond the Trastavere."
"Do you live alone?"
"No; with my father, Pasquale Solara."
"What is his occupation?"
"He is a shepherd, signor."
The girl bowed to the two young men and, with a glance at Giovanni that set his blood tingling in his veins, passed on and was speedily lost in the throng of promenaders.
Espérance, who had watched this scene with amused curiosity, broke into a hearty laugh as the Viscount turned towards him with something very like a sigh.
"Giovanni," said he, "the pretty Annunziata Solara has bewitched you!"
"Not quite so much as that, Espérance," replied the young Italian. "But she is a glorious creature, isn't she?"
"Yes, as far as looks go; but all is not gold thatglitters, and this fair Annunziata may turn out a perfect fiend or fury upon a closer acquaintance!"
Giovanni gave his friend a glance of reproach.
"Do not insult her with such wretched insinuations," he replied, warmly.
Espérance smiled and said:
"You are smitten with her, that's plain!"
"I am not, but I admire her as I would anything beautiful."
"Put it as you please. At any rate, you will hardly be likely to see her again. She was a vision and has faded."
"But I do not intend to lose sight of her."
"You do not mean to say that you design seeking her out?"
"That is exactly what I mean to say."
Espérance looked at his friend quizzically and, at the same time, uneasily.
"When do you design seeking her out?"
"This very night."
"In the Trastavere?"
"No. You did not hear her aright. She said she lived in the country, just beyond the Trastavere. I will seek her there."
"What! Alone?"
"Alone."
"Beware, Giovanni! Her bright eyes may lead you into danger! How do you know that she has not some fierce brigand lover, who will meet you with a stiletto?"
"Nonsense! Your fears are childish!"
"I am not so sure of that. The country beyond the Trastavere is infested by daring robbers, who would not hesitate to seize you and hold you for a ransom. Only the other day the notorious Luigi Vampa performed just such an exploit, exacting a very large sum for the release of his prisoner, who was a wealthy nobleman like yourself."
"I will take the chances!"
"You are mad!"
"I am not. I have no fear of brigands. They would not dare to lay even a finger upon a Massetti!"
The young Viscount drew himself up proudly as he spoke. He believed the power of his family invincible.
Espérance was at a total loss to understand the firm hold this sudden infatuation had taken upon his friend. Of course, he fully comprehended the influence of female beauty over hot, headstrong youth, and he acknowledged to himself that Annunziata was really very beautiful and alluring; still, she was not more so than hosts of other girls who would be glad to win a smile from the Viscount Massetti at almost any price, and whose pursuit would be altogether unattended with danger. It was well known that the shrewd brigands frequently sent handsome young women to Rome to entice their prey to them, and might not Annunziata Solara, with all her apparent demureness, be one of those dangerous Delilahs?
After several further attempts to dissuade the Viscount from the rash venture he had decided upon making, all of which were vain, Espérance resolvedthat his impetuous friend should not go alone that night in quest of the fascinating Annunziata. He would follow him unseen and endeavor to protect him should the necessity arise. He knew the Viscount's nature too thoroughly to propose accompanying him, as such a proposition would undoubtedly be received with scorn, if not as an absolute insult. He would, however, keep track of him and, if all went well, Massetti would be none the wiser. If, on the contrary, his aid should be needed, he could come forward and give it. In that event, gratitude on the Viscount's part would prevent him from demanding an explanation of his presence.
Meanwhile the young men had continued their stroll and had passed from the Piazza del Popolo to the Corso. Giovanni was taciturn and moody. He looked straight ahead, failing to notice the gayly attired beauties thronging that great thoroughfare, who at ordinary times would have engrossed his attention. Not so with Espérance; he admired the vivacious ladies on the sidewalk or in their handsome carriages drawn by spirited horses. Now and then he recognized an acquaintance among them and bowed, but Giovanni recognized no one. He seemed plunged in a reverie that nothing could break. Scarcely did he reply to Espérance's occasional remarks, and when he did so it was with the air of a man whose thoughts are far away.
At the broad portico of the magnificent Palazzo Massetti, Espérance, the son of Monte-Cristo bade his friend farewell. As he turned to depart, he said:
"Is your determination still unaltered, do you yet intend to seek Annunziata Solara in the country beyond the Trastavere?"
Giovanni glanced at him keenly, as he replied, somewhat impatiently:
"My determination is unaltered. I shall seek her!"
"To-night?"
"To-night!"
Espérance said nothing further, but departed, full of sad forebodings. He felt a premonition of evil, and was certain that his infatuated friend would meet with some dire mishap during the romantic and hazardous expedition of that night. It was now quite late, and the young man hurriedly bent his steps towards the Palazzo Costi, maturing his plan as he walked along. He would inform the Count of Monte-Cristo that he had been invited to accompany some friends on a pleasure excursion, requesting his permission to absent himself from Rome for a few days. This permission obtained, he would assume the garb of an Italian peasant, make his way to the Ponte St. Angelo and there, in the shadow of the bridge, await the coming of the Viscount Massetti. When the latter had passed his place of concealment, he would follow him at a distance, keeping him in view and watching him closely.
Monte-Cristo made no objection to his son's proposed absence, and the young man, after a hasty supper, hurried to his sleeping chamber, where he soon assumed a peasant's dress he had worn at a recent masquerade. Stepping in front of a toiletmirror, he applied a stain to his face, giving it the color of that of a sunburnt tiller of the fields. When his disguise was completed, he surveyed himself triumphantly in the glass. Even his father could not have recognized him, so radically had he altered his appearance.
Gaining the street by a private door without being observed, he was speedily at the bridge. As he stepped into the shadow of one of the abutments, he heard the great clock of the Vatican strike seven. It was twilight, but everything around him was as plainly visible as in broad day. He glanced in every direction. No sign of Giovanni. Had the ardent young Viscount already crossed the Tiber?
He thought not, and waited patiently for a quarter of an hour. Still no sign. Then he began to grow anxious. Massetti had certainly passed over the bridge and he had missed him. He waited a few minutes longer, devoured by impatience and anxiety. At last he reached the conclusion that Giovanni had preceded him, had gone on alone, unprotected. He must have done so; otherwise he would certainly have appeared ere this. The thought was torture. To what unknown, what deadly perils was he exposing himself amid the marshes without the city walls? But perhaps he had not yet left the city walls behind him! A ray of hope came to Espérance. If Massetti were still within the limits of the Trastavere, he might by using due speed overtake him! He would make the attempt at any rate. As he formed this resolution, he emerged from the shadow of theabutment. At that instant a man came upon the bridge and passed him. He passed so closely that they almost touched, uttering a suppressed oath at finding an intruder in his path. His pace was rapid, so rapid that he was soon far away. He had not even looked at Espérance, and it seemed to the latter that he had endeavored to conceal his face. The man was of Giovanni's size and had Giovanni's bearing, but there the resemblance ended. He was certainly a peasant; his attire betokened it; besides, his countenance, of which Espérance had caught a glimpse, was rough and tanned. The son of Monte-Cristo felt a pang of keen disappointment; then he glanced at his own garments, thought of his own stained visage, and a revelation came to him like a flash of lightning—the man was Giovanni—Giovanni in disguise! He hurriedly looked after his retiring figure; it was now but a mere speck in the distance, scarcely discernible in the fading twilight. He started swiftly in pursuit, almost running across the bridge. After a hot and weary chase, he at length gained so much on the object of his solicitude that he was as near as he deemed it prudent to approach. He was now sure that the man ahead of him was the Viscount Massetti.
Espérance paused a second to recover his breath; then he went on at a slower pace. The pursued had not discovered the pursuit; he trudged along steadily and sturdily, never once looking back. Thus the two men crossed the Trastavere, and each in turn, emerging from a gate in the wall of the Leonine City, passed out into the marshy country beyond. Theyhad not gone very far, when Espérance saw Giovanni suddenly give a start; at the same time he heard a loud, harsh voice cry out:
"In the name of Luigi Vampa, halt!"
Straining his eyes, Espérance finally succeeded in piercing the semi-darkness of the surroundings, and perceived a gigantic ruffian, who wore a black mask, standing in the centre of the road and presenting a pistol at the head of the man he had every reason to believe was Giovanni Massetti.
The young Viscount, for it was, indeed, he whom the gigantic masked brigand had halted, was staggered for an instant by this unlooked for interruption of his journey in pursuit of the beautiful flower-girl. He gazed at the huge ruffian in front of him first in bewilderment and then in anger. The robber calmly continued to cover him with his pistol; as Giovanni made a movement with his hand towards a stiletto he wore at the belt of his peasant's dress, the man's quick eye detected his intention and he exclaimed, in a rough tone of command:
"Touch that stiletto and I will blow your brains out!"
The Viscount dropped his hand; he was as brave as a lion, but the bandit had the advantage of him and, courageous as he was, he instantly recognized the folly of disregarding his warning. His rage and indignation, however, were too great for him to control. He cried to his stalwart adversary:
"Why do you stop a poor peasant from whom you can obtain nothing?"
"You are not a poor peasant, signor!"
"I am not, eh? Well, search me and see!"
"You are neither a poor peasant, signor, nor anypeasant at all! I have seen you too often in Rome to be deceived by the flimsy disguise you wear so unnaturally! I know you! You are the Viscount Giovanni Massetti!"
"Well, what if I am?" retorted the young man, sharply. "The fact will not benefit you or any member of your accursed and cowardly band!"
"Have a care how you talk, signor!" exclaimed the bandit, threateningly. "Insolence to your captors may cost you more than you would be willing to pay!"
"Indeed?"
"Yes; I mean exactly what I say. It may cost you your life!"
Giovanni glared at the brigand with unflinching eyes. He returned threat for threat.
"Take my life, if you will," he said. "It would be the worst piece of work you have ever done!"
"May I ask why, signor?"
"It would raise my family against you and the result could not fail to be your extermination!"
The man laughed loudly, and caustically replied:
"You are joking! What can your family do against Luigi Vampa and his comrades, who have long been countenanced by the highest authority!"
This was the climax of insult, and Giovanni, driven to the highest pitch of fury, unable longer to control himself, tore his stiletto from its sheath and, raising it aloft, made a frantic dash at the gigantic brigand. Instantly the latter fired. Giovanni dropped his weapon; his right arm fell useless at his side.
Espérance meanwhile had not been idle. Hisexcitement was intense, and with it was mingled terrible fear for the safety of his friend. Nevertheless, he eventually succeeded in sufficiently calming and collecting himself to form a plan of action and put it in execution. He had provided himself with a pistol, which he had freshly charged prior to his departure from the Palazzo Costi. He drew this weapon from its place of concealment at the first intimation of danger, noiselessly cocking it. The road was skirted with tall thick bushes from which projected a fringe of heavy shadows. Along this dark fringe Espérance stole with cautious tread towards the huge bandit, as soon as he perceived him standing in the centre of the highway and noted his threatening attitude. As he stealthily advanced, the moon suddenly rose, flooding the scene with its silvery light. Its rays, however, did not disturb the line of skirting shadows, and Espérance passed on unseen. When the brigand fired he was very near him. Seeing Giovanni's arm fall and realizing that he was wounded, the son of Monte-Cristo promptly raised his weapon and, covering the gigantic ruffian, discharged it directly at his heart. Blood gushed from the man's breast. He sank to the ground, where he lay quivering convulsively; in another instant he expired without even uttering a groan.
Giovanni, whose arm was badly shattered and who was suffering frightful pain, stood speechless with amazement at this sudden, unexpected intervention in his favor. Espérance instantly sprang to his side. The young Italian stared at him as if he had been anapparition from the other world. He failed to recognize him in his peasant's dress, with his stained visage.
"Who are you?" he gasped, as soon as he was able to find words.
"Do you not know me?" asked Espérance, astonished. In his excitement he had forgotten his disguise.
"You are a stranger to me," replied the Viscount, "but my gratitude is none the less on that account. You have rescued me from captivity, perhaps saved my life!"
"I am no stranger, Giovanni. I am your friend, Espérance."
"What! Espérance in that dress, with that sunburnt countenance! I thought your voice had a strangely familiar sound, but your disguise proved too complete for me to penetrate it!"
These words recalled to the mind of the son of Monte-Cristo the changes he had made in his appearance. No wonder that Viscount had failed to recognize him!
"Why did you disguise yourself, and how came you here at this critical juncture?" demanded Giovanni, after a pause.
"I disguised myself that I might follow you without fear of detection. You would not listen to reason, and I determined to protect you during your rash adventure so far as might lie in my power."
"From the bottom of my heart I thank you, Espérance. You are a brave as well as a devoted friend, fully worthy of your illustrious father! But how did you know me? I too, am disguised."
"The fact of my own disguise enabled me to penetrate yours. I recognized you almost immediately after you passed me on the Ponte St. Angelo."
"What! Were you the peasant I nearly ran down as I crossed the bridge?"
"I was. But let us lose no more time; we have lost enough already. Besides, more of Luigi Vampa's band are probably prowling in the vicinity, and I imagine we both have had sufficient of the banditti for one night! Prudence dictates that we should return at once to Rome. With your shattered arm, you surely do not count upon continuing your search for the fair Annunziata at present?"
"No; that is impossible, I regret to say. I will return with you to Rome."
As the Viscount spoke a sudden tremor seized upon him, and he leaned on his friend's shoulder for support.
"You are faint from loss of blood!" exclaimed Espérance, much alarmed. "How thoughtless in me not to bind up your wound!"
Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the blood from his friend's arm, carefully, tenderly bandaging the hurt; then he made a sling of Giovanni's handkerchief, placing the wounded member in it. The Viscount felt easier thus, though still somewhat faint.
"You are quite a physician, Espérance," said he.
"Not at all," replied the son of Monte-Cristo; "but my father taught me how to manage hurts; he said the knowledge would at some time be useful to me, and his words have proved true."
"Your father is a wonderful man; he seems to think of everything, to provide for all contingencies. Thanks to the skill he imparted to you, I am now in a condition to start on the homeward journey."
The young men turned their faces towards Rome, but scarcely had they taken a dozen steps when the road in front of them literally swarmed with rough-looking armed men, who effectually barred their progress. In an instant they were surrounded. Resistance was impossible; the two friends glanced at each other and about them in dismay. The new comers were evidently bandits, members of Luigi Vampa's desperate band.
One of the miscreants, who appeared to be the leader and was very picturesquely attired, confronted Giovanni and Espérance. He had a pistol in his belt, but did not draw it.
"You are my prisoners!" said he, in a tone of authority.
"Who are you, and by what right do you detain us?" demanded Espérance, haughtily.
"Who I am," replied the brigand, in a stern voice, "does not concern you. The right by which I detain you is the right of the strongest!"
"We cannot oppose your will, however unreasonable and unjust," returned Espérance; "my friend is wounded and my pistol is discharged. We can only throw ourselves upon your mercy; but we are gentlemen in spite of our dress, and demand to be treated as such!"
"How came your friend to be wounded and your pistol discharged?" asked the bandit, suspiciously.
"My friend was attacked and I went to his assistance," answered Espérance.
"You were in a fight, then," resumed the leader. Turning suddenly to his men, he asked: "Where is Ludovico?"
"He went up the road half an hour since, and has not yet returned," answered a short, thick-set young fellow, who seemed to be the leader's lieutenant.
"Just like him," said the leader. "Always rash, always seeking adventures alone. I heard a pistol-shot some time back," he continued, looking menacingly at Espérance. "Perhaps Ludovico has been assassinated! If so, it shall go hard with his murderers! Let him be searched for."
The short, thick-set lieutenant, accompanied by several of the band, immediately departed to obey the order.
Espérance glanced anxiously at Giovanni. A new danger threatened them. The gigantic brigand who had been slain was, without doubt, this Ludovico. His body would be found and summary vengeance taken upon them. Giovanni also realized the additional peril; but neither of the young men gave the slightest evidence of fear; inwardly they resolved to face death stoically, to meet it without the quiver of a muscle.
In a brief space the lieutenant and his companions returned; two of the men bore the corpse of the huge robber; they placed it on the grass by the roadside where the full moonlight streamed upon it, showing the wound in the breast and the garments saturatedwith blood. A frown contracted the leader's visage; he glanced at Espérance and the Viscount with a look of hate and rage; then, turning to the lieutenant, he said:
"Well?"
"We found Ludovico lying in the road a little distance from here," replied the short, thick-set man, with a trace of emotion in his rough voice. "He was shot in the heart and had been dead for some time."
The brigands had gathered about the prostrate form of their comrade; they seemed to be much affected by his fate; Ludovico was evidently a favorite.
As soon as the leader had received his subordinate's report, he turned to the prisoners, asking, sternly:
"Which of you murdered this man?"
"No murder was committed," returned Espérance, indignantly. "The huge ruffian shot my friend, shattering his arm, as you see; he was killed as a measure of defence."
"Your pistol is discharged," continued the leader, harshly; "that you have admitted; you killed Ludovico!"
"I defended my friend, whom he had basely attacked," said Espérance, sullenly.
"You killed this man? Yes or no!"
"I killed him!"
"Enough!" cried the leader, grinding his teeth. "You shall pay the penalty of your crime! Both of you shall die!"
He motioned to his lieutenant and in an instantEspérance and Giovanni were securely bound. The young men read desperate resolution and fierce vengeance upon all the rough countenances around them. There was not the faintest glimmer of hope; death would be dealt out to them at once and in the most summary fashion. Indeed, nooses were already dangling from a couple of trees by the roadside, waiting to do their fell work. The sight of these dread preparations roused Giovanni. With flashing eyes, he faced the leader of the band.
"Beware!" he cried. "If you murder us, you will have all Rome to deal with! We have told you we are gentlemen and not peasants. I am the Viscount Giovanni Massetti and my companion is the son of the famous Count of Monte-Cristo!"
As the young Italian uttered these words, a new comer suddenly appeared upon the scene for whom all the rest made way. He was an intellectual looking man, unostentatiously attired in a peasant's garb.
"Who spoke the name of the Count of Monte-Cristo?" demanded he.
The leader silently pointed to Massetti, who instantly replied:
"I spoke the name of the Count of Monte-Cristo, and he will surely take bitter vengeance upon you all for the murder of his son!"
"His son?"
"Yes, his son, who stands here at my side, ignobly bound and menaced with a shameful death!"
The stranger turned to Espérance and examined him closely.
"Are you the son of Monte-Cristo?" he asked, visibly agitated.
"I am," answered Espérance, coldly.
"Give me some token."
"'Wait and hope!'"
"His maxim!"
"Ah! you recognize it. Do you also recognize this?"
As he spoke the young man held up his left hand, and a magnificent diamond ring he wore flashed in the moonlight. The new comer took his hand and glanced at the jewel, one that the Count of Monte-Cristo had worn for years and which he had but a few days before presented to his son.
"I am convinced," said the stranger. Then, turning to the leader, he said, in a tone of command: "Release these men!"
"But they have slain Ludovico!"
"Release them!" thundered the stranger. "Ludovico should have known better then to have interfered withmyfriends!"
He was instantly obeyed, and the two young men, greatly astonished, stood relieved of their bonds.
"You are at liberty," continued the stranger, "and can resume your route. Say to the Count of Monte-Cristo that Luigi Vampa remembers his compact and is faithful to it!"
As he spoke the notorious bandit chief gathered his men together, and the whole band vanished among the trees like so many spirits of the night.
For a moment the two young men stood silent and astounded. So sudden had been the change from imminent peril to safety that they could hardly comprehend it. Luigi Vampa had come and gone like a flash, and both bandits and danger had been dispelled by the wonderful magic of Monte-Cristo's name. The brigand chief had styled Giovanni and Espérance his friends, and as such they knew the entire country in the vicinity of Rome was free to them; they could travel it by day or by night without fear of molestation. Espérance cared little for this, but Giovanni was elated by it, for it would enable him to seek out Annunziata Solara without risk of interruption or impediment. But what was the Count of Monte-Cristo's mysterious power? That was a question difficult, indeed, to answer. At any rate, even the fierce Luigi Vampa bowed to it, and it was as undisputed as it was strange.
The Viscount Massetti was the first to realize the necessity of a rapid push for Rome. He was faint from loss of blood and excitement; besides, his shattered arm throbbed violently and gave him twinges of excruciating pain. He felt himself sinking and urged his friend to hasten. Espérance acquiesced, and,supporting the young Italian as best he could, they resumed the homeward journey. Scarcely a mile had been traversed, however, when Giovanni threw himself upon the sward at the foot of a great tree, declaring that it was altogether impossible for him to advance another step. The throbbing in his arm had become unbearable, taking his breath away and filling him with a sickening sensation.
They were yet far from Rome, and not a sign of a habitation could be discerned in any direction. Waiting for daylight to come was not to be thought of; it would be some hours before dawn, and even when the sun had arisen it was by no means certain that assistance would be procurable. Meanwhile Giovanni would suffer torments, to say nothing of the danger of being exposed in his condition to the influence of the malaria from the surrounding marshes.
Espérance, though unwilling to leave his friend's side for an instant, decided at last that it was imperative for him to go in search of succor. Meanwhile a raging fever had set in and Giovanni was rapidly growing worse. As the son of Monte-Cristo was about to start on his tour of investigation, he heard a man's voice singing at some distance away, but gradually coming nearer. The sound was cheery and reassuring, for certainly the man who could sing so sweetly and joyously must have a good, kind heart. As the man approached Espérance recognized his song—it was that beautiful and expressive serenade, "Cara Nina," a melody dear to all youthful Italian lovers whether humble or of high degree.
The man at length came in sight; he was walking leisurely, but with a long, swinging gait. His voice was a clear, full tenor robusto, and the notes of his delicious love song trilled from his throat with wonderful effect in the still, balmy air of the tranquil, glorious night. He was not over twenty, was a stalwart peasant, and the moonlight showed that he possessed a manly, open countenance. So engrossed was he by his serenade that he failed to notice Giovanni lying at the foot of the huge tree and Espérance standing beside him. He was passing on when the latter hailed him. He paused, somewhat alarmed, and his hand instinctively grasped a weapon concealed in his bosom. Espérance hastened to reassure him.
"Have no fear," he said. "We are merely travelers, and one of us is grievously wounded. In Heaven's name, render what assistance you can!"
The young peasant turned and came cautiously towards them.
"This is a dangerous neighborhood," said he; "it is infested by bandits of the most reckless and daring description."
"We have abundant reason to know it," answered Espérance, "for we have just had a very narrow escape from a horrible death at the hands of some of Luigi Vampa's men."
"Luigi Vampa's men!" echoed the peasant, in astonishment.
"Yes."
"And they released you of their own accord? I never heard of such a thing! It is not their customto free their prey, at least without a heavy ransom. Did they rob you, or did you pay them for your liberty?"
"Neither," replied Espérance.
The peasant's amazement was redoubled. He glanced inquiringly at the prostrate Viscount.
"How came your comrade to be wounded?" he asked.
"His arm was shattered by the pistol of a gigantic bandit."
"Ludovico?" demanded the peasant, glancing around him, as if he expected to see the huge assailant.
"I believe that was his name," returned Espérance. "But he will do no more injury!"
"You do not mean to say that you killed him?"
"I do."
"And yet you were allowed to go free! I cannot understand it!"
"Perhaps not, but you can understand that my friend is badly hurt and needs immediate aid and shelter. Is there not some hospitable cabin in the vicinity to which he can be conveyed, where he can be attended to until assistance arrives from Rome?"
The peasant hesitated for an instant; then he said:
"My father lives at a short distance from here; he could shelter you if he would, but he is in such terror of the bandits that, under the circumstances, he would probably close his door against you."
"He need have no fear of the brigands in this case, for Luigi Vampa has just given us a signal proof of his protection. Besides, he assured us that he was our friend."
"This is singular, indeed," said the peasant, again hesitating. "Luigi Vampa is a friend to but very few, and they are those with whom he is in league. You certainly are not in league with him, or you would not have killed Ludovico!"
"This is no time for parley," replied Espérance. "My friend is suffering, and humanity alone should cause your father to receive him. I will engage to appease Luigi Vampa's anger, should it be aroused; at the worst, I pledge myself to surrender with my friend at the first summons to do so, and to assure the brigand chief that your father is altogether blameless. Come, can I not prevail upon you to be generous and humane?"
"Well," said the peasant, partially satisfied, "I will trust you, though I am taking a great risk. Should Vampa be offended, he will burn our hut over our heads and murder us all without pity. However, both your wounded friend and yourself shall have such poor shelter as our humble roof affords."
Giovanni was aided to arise, and, taking him between them, Espérance and the peasant began their walk. Fortunately they did not have far to go, otherwise the young Viscount's failing strength would have been unequal to the task. They quitted the highway, plunging into a narrow footpath closely wooded on either side; so thickly, in fact, did the tree branches interlace overhead that the moonbeams were effectually excluded and almost impenetrable darkness reigned. For an instantEspérance was apprehensive of treachery, but this fear was dispelled when he thought of the manly bearing of the youthful peasant and the dread of the brigands he had expressed. The three could scarcely walk abreast in the narrow pathway, and every now and then Giovanni stumbled against some protruding root or other obstacle invisible in the obscurity; but the peasant knew the road perfectly, and with no uncertain step hurried his companions on as rapidly as possible.
Soon the path widened somewhat, the light commenced to sift through the dense foliage, and the gurgling of a noisy brook was heard at no great distance. Suddenly they made an abrupt turn, coming in sight of a small, neat-looking cabin, covered with clustering vines and embowered in verdure. The brook dashed along within a few yards of it, the fresh odor of the water mingling gratefully with the perfume of honeysuckles and the aromatic scent of the surrounding forest. It was, indeed, a beautiful and highly romantic spot, a cosy, sequestered nook, such as that in which King Henry hid away his love, the Fair Rosamond, from the prying glances of the inquisitive world. Espérance gazed at it with rapture, and even Giovanni, wounded and exhausted as he was, could not refrain from uttering an exclamation of astonishment and admiration. The cabin was closed and not a sign of life was visible.
"We have arrived," said the peasant, in a low voice. Quitting his companions, he went to a window, against which he gave three distinct raps.
The signal was almost immediately answered by three similar raps from within; then the window was thrown open and a woman's head appeared. The moonlight fell full upon her face, and both Espérance and Giovanni suddenly started as they recognized Annunziata Solara, the bewitching flower-girl of the Piazza del Popolo.
"It is she—it is Annunziata!" whispered the young Viscount in his comrade's ear.
"Hush!" returned the latter, in a guarded undertone. "Do not betray yourself! She will never recognize us, disguised as we are! Besides, our guide's suspicions must not be aroused! He might yet refuse us shelter!"
"You are right, as you always are," answered Massetti. "We must maintain our incognito, at least until we are sure of our ground."
Meanwhile the peasant was speaking hastily with Annunziata.
"Sister," he said, "I am not alone; two travelers, peasants like ourselves, are with me. They were attacked by Luigi Vampa's men, and one of them is sorely wounded."
"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the girl, evidently filled with terror.
"They claim our hospitality for the night and our assistance until aid can be procured from Rome. In my father's name I have accorded them shelter. Open the door and admit us."
The girl disappeared from the window and in another instant had flung the door open. As she stood there in the silverly light, the state of her garments andhair indicating that she had hurriedly risen from her couch, her bright, picturesque beauty was vastly heightened. The young men thought they had never beheld a more entrancing vision of female loveliness.
"Where is father?" asked the peasant, anxiously.
"He has not yet returned," replied the girl.
The guide uttered a sigh of relief.
"I am glad," said he, "for Pasquale Solara does not like strangers. Were he here he might refuse to exercise hospitality towards this wounded man and his companion, even though they are, as they assert, friends of Luigi Vampa."
"Friends of Luigi Vampa!" echoed the girl, becoming greatly alarmed. "The Blessed Virgin protect us!"
"They are not brigands, at any rate," said the peasant, "and I believe them honest men. If, however, they are deceiving me, I shall know how to act!"
There was an ominous flash in his eye as he spoke, and his hand again sought the weapon concealed within his bosom. Espérance, who had been intently listening to this conversation and had marked every motion of the young peasant, felt his suspicions revive; but there was no time for hesitation; shelter and aid for his friend were of the first necessity; they must be obtained at once and at any cost. He had refrained from offering the peasant money, not wishing to betray that he and his companion were other personages than they seemed, and now that Annunziata had appeared upon the scene he congratulated himself on the wisdom of his course. He, nevertheless, feared Giovanni's impulsiveness in the presence of the girlhe so much admired, and determined to watch him as closely as possible, in order to promptly check all damaging disclosures. If Giovanni remained in this attractive nook long enough to open and carry on a flirtation with the beautiful flower-girl, he must do so solely as a peasant and under the cover of his clever disguise. It was hardly likely that Annunziata would recognize in Massetti and himself the two youthful gallants she had encountered but for a moment amid the gay throng and crush of the brilliant Piazza del Popolo.
While these thoughts went flashing through his mind, the young Viscount, leaning heavily upon his arm, had not taken his eyes from the handsome, tempting girl before him. Suffering as he was, he longed to be at her side, to clasp her lovely shape, to feel her warm, voluptuous breath stream over his face and imprint kiss after kiss on her ripe red lips. He had not forgotten Zuleika. Oh! no! But Annunziata Solara was an altogether different being, a girl to delight him, intoxicate him, for a moment as the other for life. For Monte-Cristo's daughter his feeling was love, for the fascinating flower-girl of the Piazza del Popolo it was a passion to be sated.
After a few more words to his sister, the peasant returned to the young men, aiding Espérance to transport Giovanni into the cabin. The interior of this humble abode was as neat and picturesque as the exterior. The room they entered was small and cheaply furnished, but feminine taste was everywhere displayed. A single candle was the only light, butthe scanty illumination sufficed to show the refining touches of a woman's hand. In one corner stood a bed, the covers of which were turned down, and upon which was impressed the shape of its late occupant. At the head of the bed a brass crucifix was suspended from the wall, while over the back of a chair hung articles of a woman's apparel. Giovanni could not doubt that he was in Annunziata's chamber, and that the imprint on the bed was hers. He felt a thrill of joy at the idea that he was to occupy the bewitching flower-girl's couch, to occupy, perhaps, the very place where she had lain but a short time before.
Annunziata, who had thrown a cloak over her shoulders and night clothes, but whose feet were still bare, had accompanied her brother and his companions to the apartment. She eyed the strangers timidly, but curiously, though it was quite plain she failed to penetrate their disguise. With deft hands she rearranged the bed and removed her garments from the chair. Then she retired to another room, and the wounded Viscount was aided to undress and assisted into the couch by the peasant and Espérance, where he eventually fell asleep in a delirium of bliss, after his hurt had been properly cared for.
Espérance was duly bestowed for the night, and soon unbroken silence brooded over the solitary cabin in the forest.
Thus was enacted the initial scene of a drama that was destined to be fruitful in disastrous results, results that clouded more than one happy life.