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 a.s.sert, 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. Esperance, 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 girl he 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 Ma.s.setti 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 pa.s.sion to be sated.

After a few more words to his sister, the peasant returned to the young men, aiding Esperance 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, but the 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 bra.s.s 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 a.s.sisted into the couch by the peasant and Esperance, where he eventually fell asleep in a delirium of bliss, after his hurt had been properly cared for.

Esperance 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.

CHAPTER VIII.

A SYLVAN IDYL.

In the morning the Viscount Ma.s.setti's arm was found to be so much swollen and his wound so painful that it was deemed advisable to send for a physician, who resided in a neighboring hamlet not more than a mile distant from the cabin of the Solaras. The man of medicine was soon at Giovanni's bedside. After examining and dressing his hurt, he declared that the patient ought not to be moved for at least a week, a piece of intelligence at which the young man inwardly rejoiced, notwithstanding all the torture he suffered, for his sojourn involved nursing at the hands of the beautiful Annunziata, who had already shown him that she possessed tenderness and a kind heart, as well as good looks.

Esperance held a conference with his friend after the physician's departure to decide upon what should be done. He proposed to go at once to Rome and acquaint the Viscount's family with what had happened and Giovanni's condition, but the young man firmly opposed this plan, declaring that he would be well in a few days at most and protesting that informing his relatives of his situation would involve explanations he had no desire to give. Giovanni also begged Esperance to remain with him and give no sign as to their place of retreat; so earnestly did he solicit these favors that the son of Monte-Cristo, much against his will and with many forebodings, finally consented to grant them.

Pasquale Solara returned home late on the day following the arrival of the strangers at his hut. He was an old, but st.u.r.dy shepherd, whose rough, sunburned visage spoke of exposure to the weather and hard toil.

He frequently was absent for days and nights in succession, absences that he never explained and about which his son and daughter did not dare to question him, for Pasquale was a harsh man, who grew angry at the slightest pretext and was inclined to be severe with all who sought to pry into his affairs. He expressed great fear of the bandits who infested the vicinity of Rome and especially of Luigi Vampa's band, but those who knew him best shook their heads doubtingly, and, though they did not say so, it was plainly to be seen that they deemed this fear merely a.s.sumed for purposes of his own. At any rate, it was a significant fact that Pasquale was never disturbed in his wanderings, while the brigands always left his dwelling and its inmates unmolested.

The old shepherd frowned darkly when informed by his children that they had given shelter to a couple of travelers, one of whom had been wounded in a fight with a brigand, but he said nothing and appeared disposed to accept the situation without even a grumble. He did not, however, enter the chamber in which Giovanni lay and avoided coming in contact with Esperance, who caught but a pa.s.sing glimpse of him ere he departed again on another expedition, which he did after a stay of only half an hour at his cabin.

The young peasant and Esperance soon became quite friendly, indulging in many a ramble in the forest and beside the gurgling brook. The peasant's name was Lorenzo, and he appeared to lead a free life, totally unenc.u.mbered with avocation of any kind, save occasionally looking after a few sheep that never strayed far from the banks of the little stream.

Annunziata for the time abandoned her visits to Rome, installing herself as Giovanni's nurse. She was almost constantly beside him, and her presence and care were more potent medicines than any the physician administered. Her smile seemed to exercise a bewitching effect upon the young Viscount, while her voice sounded in his ravished ear like the sweetest music. The handsome girl was the very picture of perfect health, and her well-developed form had all the charm of early maturity, added to youthful freshness and grace. She wore short skirts, and her shapely limbs were never enc.u.mbered with stockings, while her feet were invariably bare. A low, loose body with short sleeves displayed her robust neck and shoulders, and plump, dimpled arms that would have been the envy of a d.u.c.h.ess. Her hands as well as her feet were not small and the sun had given them a liberal coat of brown, but they were neatly turned and attractive, while her short, taper fingers were tipped with pink, carefully trimmed nails. Altogether she looked like the spirit of the place, a delicious wood nymph as enchanting as any a poet's fancy ever created and yet a substantial, mortal reality well calculated to fire a man's blood and set his brain in a whirl. If she had appeared beautiful in Rome, amid the aristocratic fashion queens of the Piazza del Popolo, she seemed a thousand-fold more delightful and fascinating in her humble forest home, where she shook off all restraint and showed herself as she really was, a bright, innocent child of nature, as pure as the breath of heaven and as free from guile as the honey-fed b.u.t.terfly of the summer sunshine.

The more Giovanni saw of her the more he came under the dominion of her irresistible charms, the empire of her physical attractiveness.

Gradually he mended, and as his wound healed his strength returned. At length, towards the close of the week, he was able to quit his bed and sit in a large chair by the window of his room. It had been agreed upon between him and Esperance that, during their sojourn at the Solara cabin, they should be known respectively as Antonio Valpi and Guiseppe Sagasta, and already Annunziata had bestowed upon her patient the friendly and familiar diminutive of Tonio, a name to which he answered with wildly beating heart and eyes that spoke volumes.

By means of shrewdly managed questions the young Viscount had ascertained that the flower-girl had no lover, that her breast had never owned the tender pa.s.sion, and this intelligence added fuel to the flame that was consuming him. It is not to be supposed that Annunziata was ignorant of the strong impression she had made upon her youthful and handsome patient. She was perfectly aware of it and secretly rejoiced at the manifest exhibition of the power of her charms. Perhaps she did not as yet love Giovanni, perhaps it was merely the general physical attraction of a woman towards a man, or it might have been that innate spice of coquetry common to every female, but the fact remained that she tacitly encouraged the young Viscount in his ardent attentions to her.

She, moreover, lured and inflamed him in such a careless, innocent way that she acquired additional piquancy thereby. Had Annunziata been a designing woman of the world intent upon trapping a wealthy lover, instead of a pure and artless country maid totally unconscious of the harm she was working, she could not have played her game with more effect. Giovanni had become altogether her slave. He hung upon her smiles, drank her words and could hardly restrain himself in her presence. No shipwrecked mariner ever more greedily devoured with his dazzled eyes the fateful loreley of a rocky, deserted coast than he did her. Had she been his social equal, had her intelligence and education matched her personal beauty, he would have forgotten Zuleika, thrown himself impetuously at her feet and solicited her hand. As it was, while Monte-Cristo's daughter possessed his entire heart, Annunziata Solara enslaved his senses.

She received his approaches as a matter-of-course, without diffidence, without a blush. His gallant speeches pleased her, she did not know why.

So thoroughly unsuspicious was she, that she failed to notice his language was not that of the untutored peasant he claimed to be, that his bearing as well as his words indicated a degree of culture and refinement far above his a.s.sumed station. She was dazzled, charmed by him as the bird is by the glittering serpent with its wicked, fascinating eyes. She thought of nothing but the present and its novel joys. She had never heeded the future--she did not heed it now.

One morning as she sat at his side by the open window, through which stole the balmy air of the forest laden with the intoxicating perfume of a thousand wild, intensely sweet flowers, Giovanni suddenly took her brown hand, covering it with pa.s.sionate kisses. The girl did not resist, did not withdraw her hand from his; she did not even tremble, though a slight glow came into her cheeks, making her look like a very Circe.

"Annunziata," said Giovanni, in a low voice scarcely above a whisper, "do you care for me?"

"Care for you, Tonio?" replied the girl, gazing sweetly into his glowing and agitated countenance. "Oh! yes! I care a great deal for you!"

He threw his arm about her neck, and, as his hand lay upon her shapely shoulder, a magnetic thrill shot through him like a sudden shock from a powerful electric battery. Annunziata did not seek to withdraw herself from his warm embrace, and he drew her to him with tightening clasp until her full, palpitating bosom rested against his breast. Her tempting red lips, slightly parted, were upturned; he placed his upon them in a long, lingering, delirious kiss. Then the color deepened in her cheeks, and she gently disengaged herself. She did not, however, avert her eyes, but gazed into his with a look of mute inquiry. All this was new to her, and the more delicious because of its entire novelty.

"Neither my father, nor my brother, nor my dead mother ever kissed me like that!" she said, artlessly.

Giovanni was enraptured; the girl's innocence was absolutely marvelous; he had never dreamed that such innocence existed upon earth. Was she really what she appeared?

"Annunziata," he said, abruptly, his heart beating furiously and his breath coming thick and fast, "you have never experienced love, or you would know the meaning of that kiss!"

"Love?" answered the girl, opening her large, l.u.s.trous eyes widely. "Oh!

yes, I have felt love. I love my father and Lorenzo, I love--everybody!"

"But not as you would love a young man, who would throw himself at your pretty feet and pour out the treasures of his heart to you!"

"No young man has ever done that," said Annunziata, smiling and nestling closer to him.

"But some one will before long, perhaps before many minutes! How would you like me to be that one!" cried the Viscount, in his headlong fashion.

"I cannot tell," answered the girl, "I do not know!"

"Then let me try the experiment!" said Giovanni, rising from his chair and sinking on his knees in front of her. "Annunziata, I love you!"

The girl stroked his hair and then pa.s.sed her taper fingers through his flowing locks. She was silent and seemed to be thinking. Her bosom heaved just a little more than usual, and the glow on her cheeks became a trifle more intense. Giovanni, yet kneeling, seized her hand, holding it in a crushing clasp.

"Do you hear me?" he cried, impatiently. "Do you understand me? I love you!"

"You love me, Tonio?" replied the girl, slowly. "Well, it is only natural! Every young man must love some young girl some time or other, and I think--I think--I love you a little!"

"Think!" said Giovanni, amazed. "Do you not know it?"

"Perhaps!" answered Annunziata, still fondling his hair.

Giovanni threw his arms about her waist, an ample, healthful waist, free from the restraints of corsets and the cramping devices of fashion. As he did so the sound of footsteps was heard without, and he had scarcely time to leap to his feet when Esperance entered the room.

Ma.s.setti was confused and his friend noticed the fact. He also remarked that Annunziata was slightly flushed and seemed to have experienced some agreeable agitation. Esperance instantly leaped to a conclusion.

Giovanni's flirtation with the fair flower-girl had gone a trifle too far, had a.s.sumed a serious aspect. He would interfere, he would remonstrate with him. It might not yet be too late after all.

Annunziata was a pure and innocent creature, unused to the ways of the world and incapable of suspecting the wickedness of men. She was on the point of falling into a deadly snare, on the point of being wrecked upon the most dangerous shoal life presented. Her very purity and innocence would make her an easy victim. Giovanni was not wicked; he was merely young, the prey of the irresistible pa.s.sion of youth. Annunziata's surpa.s.sing loveliness had fired his blood, had driven him to the verge of a reckless action, a crime against this beautiful girl that money could not repair. This crime should not be committed, if he could help it, and he would risk the Viscount's friendship to save him from himself. Giovanni could not marry the humble peasant girl; he should not mar her future.

When Esperance came into the chamber, his presence recalled Annunziata to herself and also dampened Ma.s.setti's ardor. The girl arose and, smiling at Esperance, tripped blushingly away. Giovanni was flushed and somewhat angry at the intrusion at the critical moment of his love making. Esperance's face was grave; he felt all the weight of the responsibility he was about to a.s.sume.

"Giovanni," said he, in a measured tone, "I do not blame you for being fascinated by a pretty, amiable girl like Annunziata Solara, far from it. She is certainly a paragon of beauty, a model of rustic grace, a very tempting morsel of rural virtue and innocence. She is well fitted to turn the head of almost any young man--I freely acknowledge that. It is pardonable to wish to enjoy her society--nay, a harmless flirtation with her is, perhaps, not censurable; but that is the utmost length to which a man of honor can go! Remember she has a reputation to lose, a heart to break!"

"What do you mean by that long sermon?" demanded the Viscount, setting his teeth and frowning savagely.