One noon Zuleika, who was in an unusually despondent frame of mind, strayed from the rest of her companions and strolled beneath the centenarian trees. Unconsciously she approached the lofty wall of the garden. She seated herself at the foot of a gnarled old elm, the leafy branches of which descended to the ground and effectually screened Monte-Cristo's daughter from view. At least, so she thought, but though she could not be seen by any within the garden enclosure she was plainly visible from the wall and the trees looming above it without.

As Zuleika sat pondering on her lot and sadly thinking of her separation from her lover, she heard or imagined she heard a singular noise amid the thick boughs of an immense chestnut tree immediately outside the garden wall. She started up in affright, but could discern nothing unusual, and the singular noise was not repeated. The strangest part of the whole affair, however, was that the noise had sounded like her own name uttered by a human voice. This increased her terror and confusion, and she was about to flee from the spot when an oblong pebble to which something white was attached fluttered over the wall and fell at her feet. She was now more alarmed then ever and took several steps backward, the while regarding the white object that lay where it had fallen, motionless and fascinating.

Finally her curiosity obtained the mastery, and, approaching the suspicious object with the utmost caution, she bent over to examine it.

It was an ordinary envelope and, no doubt, contained a letter. For whom was it intended? Obviously for one of the pupils. It was a clandestine epistle, too, otherwise it would have come by the regular channel through the post office. Perhaps it was a love letter. At this thought she gave a guilty start and gazed piercingly into the chestnut tree, but nothing was visible there save boughs and leaves. After all, the epistle was, doubtless, destined for some swarthy-visaged Italian beauty, and many such were in the convent school. That it had fallen at her feet was certainly but a mere coincidence. It was not, it could not be intended for her! Its rightful owner, who had clearly received many similar notes in the same way, knew where it was and presently would come for it. The envelope had fallen face downward, and she could not see the address.

She touched it with her foot, then cautiously turned it with the tip of her shoe. She saw writing. It was the address. Somehow the arrangement of the characters seemed familiar to her, though she was so dazed and confused she could not make out the name. Her curiosity was unworthy of her, she knew, unworthy of Monte-Cristo's daughter. What right had she to pry into the heart secret of one of her school companions? Still she gazed; she could not help it. Suddenly she stooped and took the envelope from the ground. The address riveted her eyes like a magician's spell.

Great heavens! it was her own name--Zuleika!

Hurriedly snapping the slight string that bound the envelope to the stone, she thrust the former into the bosom of her dress. Then she glanced around her, half-fearing she had been seen by some of the pupils or the watchful Sister Agatha. But no, she was un.o.bserved, and even now her companions and the nun were at such a distance that she could read her letter without the slightest danger of being discovered or interrupted. The temptation was strong. She yielded to it. She would read the letter. She felt convinced that it was from the Viscount Ma.s.setti, and the conviction filled her with unutterable joy. She had not heard a word concerning him since she had been immured within the sombre walls of that dismal convent, and now she had tidings of him in his own handwriting! It was rapture! What had he written to her? An a.s.surance of his love, no doubt, and, perhaps, an exhortation to her to keep her part of their agreement--to love no other man, to encourage no other suitor! Surely she loved no one else--she never could love any one but Giovanni Ma.s.setti, for did he not possess her whole heart, all the wealth of her ardent youthful affection?

She kissed the envelope, then opened it, took out the letter, which was written in pencil, and read:

DEAREST ZULEIKA: I can keep from you no longer. I must see you once more and again call you my own. I strove to attract your attention just now in the chestnut tree outside the wall. I uttered your beloved name, but you did not seem to understand me. This evening at twilight I will scale the wall. At that time be at the elm where you now stand and I will meet you there. Do not fail me, and, above all, do not be afraid. I a.s.sure you that no harm can possibly befall either of us. Meet me, darling.

Your own, GIOVANNI.

Zuleika stood staring at this pa.s.sionate note with sensations made up of amazement, rapture and dismay. Giovanni, her lover, was coming. He would stand there, on that very spot, and she would see him in all the glory of his youthful manhood, with the radiant love-light in his eyes.

But how if he were discovered? What then would become of him and of her?

She shuddered at the possibilities of danger. But on one point she was resolved--she would meet him let the danger be what it might. How Giovanni would manage to avoid observation she did not know, but she would trust to his judgment and discretion.

She glanced in the direction of the pupils and Sister Agatha. They were coming slowly towards her. Again secreting her lover's epistle in her bosom, she went to meet them.

CHAPTER III.

THE INTRUDER IN THE CONVENT GARDEN.

As the hour for the evening promenade drew near, Zuleika became painfully excited, and uneasy. She longed with all her heart to see Giovanni Ma.s.setti again, to hear the ardent words of love he would be sure to utter, but would she be doing right to meet him clandestinely and alone? Her mind misgave her. Of course she could trust her young Italian lover, for he was the very soul of chivalry and honor. But did others know this? How would her conduct be judged should the other pupils and Sister Agatha steal upon them unawares? Giovanni might escape without recognition, but with her it would be altogether different. She could escape only by coining an ingenious lie, and at that her whole nature revolted. She could not stoop to an innocent deception, much less to an absolute falsehood. Why had Giovanni tempted her? Why had he sought to place her in a situation he must know would be perilous? There was but one answer--because of his love--and that answer was sufficient to induce her to take the risk, however great it might be. Yes, she would meet him at the appointed time and spot.

At length the bell rang for the promenade, and Sister Agatha headed the little procession for the garden. For a brief s.p.a.ce Zuleika lingered with her companions among the shady walks and gorgeous flowers, but at the first opportunity stole away and sought the leafy elm, beneath the friendly boughs of which she was to receive the welcome yet dreaded visit from the Viscount Ma.s.setti. She gained the rendezvous un.o.bserved, with loudly beating heart. The young Italian was not there. She searched eagerly but vainly for him in the gathering twilight. What had happened to prevent his coming? She was on thorns of anxiety. Perhaps he had attempted to scale the wall and had fallen, sustaining some severe injury! Perhaps even then, while she was waiting for him, he was lying outside the wall, bruised and bleeding! But what could she do? Only wait, wait, with torturing thoughts seething in her troubled brain.

She listened intently. Not a sound. If Giovanni were wounded, disabled, he was maintaining a most heroic silence. She drew a magnificent gold watch, the exquisite case of which was thickly incrusted with diamonds, from her belt and glanced at the dial. It was after seven o'clock, and by eight all the scholars were required to be safely housed within the convent. Besides, she was not sure that she would not be missed, searched for and found. What should she do, what course should she take?

As she was debating within herself, uncertain whether to remain or return, there was a rustle amid the foliage of the chestnut tree immediately outside the garden enclosure, and a man's form swung from one of the branches to the top of the wall. Zuleika's emotion well-nigh overcame her. She had recognized Giovanni. In another instant he had leaped from the wall to the ground and was at her side. He stretched out his arms to her and the girl, all of a tremble, impetuously cast herself into them.

"Oh! Giovanni!" she murmured. "At last. I feared some terrible accident had befallen you."

"I am safe, darling Zuleika," answered the young Italian, folding her in a close embrace and showering ardent kisses upon her forehead and lips.

"But you, dearest, you are well? You have not forgotten me, have not ceased to love me?"

"Forgotten you, ceased to love you, Giovanni!" whispered the quivering girl, in a tone of slight reproach, gazing fondly into his eyes. "Have I not given you my solemn promise to love you only?"

"Forgive me, my own!" cried the youthful Viscount. "What is a lover without fears and doubts? They are the proof of the strength of his adoration!"

They seated themselves at the foot of the branching elm, the friendly shelter of which shut them in. Then Zuleika said, with apprehension in her voice:

"Why did you come here, Giovanni? Are you not aware that you are running a great risk and putting me in peril? If we are found together, you will be ignominiously expelled and I severely punished. Besides, think of the disgrace for us both in such an event! The matter will get abroad, furnish food for gossip and certainly reach the ears of my father and brother, whose displeasure I dread more than all else! Think, too, that Esperance will call you to account for your conduct, and I could never bear a quarrel between you and him in which, perhaps, blood might be shed!"

"Never fear, Zuleika," replied Ma.s.setti, gallantly. "Should we be discovered I will shield you. As to your father and brother, they cannot be displeased, for I will explain all to them and end by demanding you in marriage. Why have I come here? Simply because I could hold aloof from you no longer. I felt that I must see you, speak with you, renew my vows of love. Oh! Zuleika, the world is all dark to me without your smile!"

"But you promised me to wait!"

"I know it; but I miscalculated my strength when I made that promise.

Could I see you I might be patient; but to wait for weeks and weeks without even a glimpse of your dear face, without once hearing the sound of your beloved voice, is utterly beyond me. I cannot do it!"

"You must. Nothing else can be done. My father wishes me to remain at the convent school for a year, and the rules positively prohibit your visits. Be patient yet awhile, Giovanni. We both are very young and have a life of happiness to look forward to. Besides, we can see each other at the Palazzo Costi during vacation, and that is something."

"It is nothing to a man who wishes to see you constantly, to be always with you. Oh! Zuleika, I cannot bear our separation, I cannot do without you!"

The young man had risen to his feet and uttered these words loudly, recklessly. Zuleika sprang up and caught him by the arm, her face white with terror.

"Control yourself, Giovanni, control yourself!" she whispered, in a frightened tone. "Speak lower, with more caution, or other ears than mine will hear you!"

But the Viscount did not heed her. He was fearfully agitated and his entire frame shook with excitement and emotion.

"Fly with me, Zuleika, fly with me now, this very moment, and be my wife!" he exclaimed, in a voice so strangely altered that Monte-Cristo's daughter scarcely recognized it. "I am rich, and my family has wealth and power sufficient to protect us against everything and everybody, even your father, with all his untold gold and influence! The Count of Monte-Cristo seeks to part us; that is the reason he has sent you here, to this convent, where you are little less than a prisoner!"

He caught her wildly in his arms and held her against his breast as if defying fate. Zuleika, more terrified than ever, struggled in his embrace and finally released herself. She faced Giovanni, and said, warmly:

"You do my father injustice. He does not seek to part us. He esteems you greatly, Viscount Ma.s.setti, loves you for the service you rendered me, his daughter, and will reward that service with the highest recompense in his power to bestow--my hand. But he considers me a child as yet, wishes me to have education and experience before I marry, that I may be a wife worth having and not a mere useless doll. Respect his wishes, Giovanni, respect him. He is a good, kind-hearted man, and will do right. His wisdom has been shown too often for me to doubt it!"

"His wisdom!" cried Ma.s.setti, bitterly. "Yes, he is wise, too wise to bestow your hand upon me, a mere Viscount! What is my family in his eyes? Nothing. What is my wealth? An utter trifle compared to his. I tell you, Zuleika, he does not wish us to marry. He designs you for some high potentate with riches to match the princely marriage-portion you will have!"

"No, no!" cried the girl. "You are despondent, and in your despondency misjudge him. He cares nothing for wealth or exalted station, but values a good name and an unstained reputation above all else."

"But will you not be mine, will you not fly with me from this wretched prison, in which I can see you only by stealth and like a criminal?"

The Italian's eyes sparkled in the twilight and his voice was full of eloquent persuasion. He fell upon his knees at Zuleika's feet, and, seizing her hand, kissed it pa.s.sionately again and again. The trembling young girl was deeply touched by his love and entreaties. For a moment she wavered, but for a moment only; then reason a.s.serted its sway and cooler reflection came to her aid.

"Rise, Giovanni," she said, with comparative calmness, "rise and be a man. This proposition is altogether unworthy of you, and, should I accept it, we would both be disgraced. I am yours, my heart is in your keeping, and I will be your wife at the proper time with my father's full consent. But I cannot fly with you, I will not!"

The young man sprang to his feet as if an electric bat had struck him.

"You have no confidence in me, then!" he cried, impulsively. "You do not love me!"

"Do not love you!" exclaimed the girl, winding her shapely arms about his neck, as her lovely head sank upon his bosom. "I love you with all my heart, with all my soul, and it is because I love you that I will not fly with you!"

Giovanni kissed her hair rapturously, excitedly, and the beautiful girl, looking ten times more beautiful in her pleading earnestness, added, sweetly, persuasively:

"Leave me now, darling. The bell for the pupils to return to the convent will soon ring and I must not be missed from among them. Leave me, but remember the maxim, 'Wait and hope!'"

The lover was about to reply when the sound of footsteps suddenly broke upon their ears. They glanced at each other, startled, uncertain what to do. Giovanni was the first to recover self-possession. He noiselessly parted the boughs of the elm and peered cautiously in the direction of the sound.

"Three men are rapidly approaching," he said, hastily, in a whisper.