"Of course," returned Monte-Cristo, "but you are in error!"

"I saw his face! Surely I ought to have been able to recognize that!"

"Certainly; but, I tell you, everything was so arranged as to deceive you into believing the young Italian the criminal, the despicable wretch who had failed to respect a woman's honor!"

"It may be as you a.s.sert, but I cannot rid myself of my firm and deep-rooted belief in the matter. I have forgiven the Viscount Ma.s.setti for the foul wrong he did me, but to the latest day of my earthly existence I shall believe him guilty!"

Suddenly fixing her eyes upon Zuleika with a gaze of bewildering intensity, Annunziata stood as if anxious to speak to her of some very important topic.

Monte-Cristo's daughter divined this, and, going to the former flower-girl, said to her:

"Is there anything I can do for you, Sister Annunziata? If so you have only to ask it!"

Annunziata laid her hand upon Zuleika's shoulder, asking, in a tone that notwithstanding all her efforts to control it was not a little unsteady and tremulous:

"Do you love him?--do you love the Viscount Ma.s.setti?"

"Yes," answered Zuleika, lowering her eyes beneath the intensity of the other's look.

"So I thought, but oh! daughter of a n.o.ble family, beware of the perfidious young man! He will not hesitate to deceive you as he deceived me! Then he will leave you to your fate as he left me to mine, and life-long sorrow and misery will be your portion!"

Zuleika gazed pityingly at the peasant girl.

"You loved him once, did you not?" she asked.

"Perhaps I did, perhaps I did not!" replied Annunziata. "I do not know!

Certainly my heart spoke for him, but that may have been only friendly esteem! However, after the abduction and the horrible and disgraceful events that followed it, I grew to hate him with the bitterest description of hate! I have told you that I have forgiven him and it was the truth. I have forgiven and am endeavoring to forget him!"

There was a suspicious glitter in the girl's eyes as she spoke, something that hinted of the presence of tears, but the glitter pa.s.sed away and, turning to Mme. de Rancogne, she said:

"Are your guests through with questioning me, Madame the Superior?"

Mme. de Rancogne glanced inquiringly at Monte-Cristo, who nodded his head affirmatively.

"The interview is concluded," replied Helena, "and now, if you so desire, you can return to your apartment."

Annunziata, more affected and agitated by what she had just pa.s.sed through than she cared to admit, bowed to the visitors and the Superior and hastily quitted the salon.

"Poor girl! she remains perfectly unconvinced!" said Monte-Cristo, after her departure.

"And she is right!" rejoined Mme. de Rancogne, warmly. "I have heard all the details of her story and the chain of evidence against the Viscount Giovanni Ma.s.setti is altogether complete. To doubt his guilt would be sheer idiocy!"

After a sojourn of a few hours longer at the Refuge, Monte-Cristo and his party returned to Rome to go actively to work in Ma.s.setti's cause.

CHAPTER XXVI.

VAMPA AND MONTE-CRISTO.

After his fearful and exhausting duel with old Pasquale Solara in which he had been so nearly vanquished and so signally favored by Fate, the Viscount Ma.s.setti dragged himself rather than ran through the chestnut grove by the roadside, pausing now and then to glance back through the trees and note what was taking place among Vampa's bandits. His wounded antagonist was evidently unconscious, for the brigands were bending over him, some of them seeming to be engaged in endeavors to restore him to his senses. Another circ.u.mstance tending to confirm this supposition was the absence of pursuit, for had the shepherd been able to give even the most fragmentary information relative to the encounter, Vampa's men would have immediately devoted their attention to a search for his successful a.s.sailant, and in Giovanni's present condition of exhaustion his capture could not have been doubtful.

The young Italian did not waste a moment, but made his way towards Rome as rapidly as he was able, though his progress was necessarily toilsome and painful in the extreme. Having at length reached the bank of a small brook at a safe distance from the scene of the conflict, he washed the dust and sweat from his face, and held his benumbed hand in the cool, limpid water until the blood resumed its normal circulation. Then he arranged his torn and disordered garments so as not to attract too much attention from the curious pedestrians he would be sure to meet on the outskirts of the city, resuming his journey strengthened and refreshed.

Contrary to his expectations he eventually gained the Hotel de France without exciting any special observation or comment. Once in his own apartment he carefully locked the door and, casting himself upon his bed, breathed freely for the first time since old Solara had fallen by his hand.

His thoughts, however, were not altogether of a rea.s.suring nature. He had taken an Italian's vengeance upon the despicable old Pasquale Solara, who certainly merited all he had received, but how would Monte-Cristo look at the affair when he learned of it as he most a.s.suredly would when he began his campaign against Vampa, if not before?

Undoubtedly with strong disapprobation and displeasure. The Count had cautioned him to keep out of sight, to restrain his impetuosity, and he had done neither. On the contrary he had shown himself to the shepherd, declared his ident.i.ty and a.s.sumed the responsibility of dealing with him, though, to be sure, he had given him a chance to defend himself. If Solara was dead, if he had expired without making any revelation, his secret was secure and even Monte-Cristo could not unearth it, but would not the death of old Pasquale deprive the Count of a most important witness, a most important factor in his rehabilitation? Perhaps so, perhaps not, for it was by no means certain that Monte-Cristo could force Solara to confess and make at least partial and tardy amends for his atrocious misdeeds. It was highly probable that Annunziata's wretched father, even if brought to bay, would persist in preserving a stony and unbroken silence, would make no admissions whatever. Taking this view of the matter the Viscount felt relieved and, composing himself on his couch, yielded to the influence of extreme fatigue and fell asleep. His slumber was profound and dreamless. Exactly how long he slept he knew not, but meanwhile an event as unexpected as it was portentous occurred almost within earshot of where he lay, an event brought about by his rash and inconsiderate action of that morning.

Monte-Cristo's salon was opposite to Ma.s.setti's chamber, a wide corridor separating the two apartments. It was late in the afternoon and the Count, seated at his desk, was pondering over his plans in relation to the Viscount. Matters had not progressed as swiftly as he had hoped.

Besides, much further delay seemed inevitable. Maximilian, of course, could do nothing, for the present at least, and Valentine's ability to be of use was limited to encouraging Zuleika and exercising a proper degree of surveillance over the lovers when such surveillance was possible. Peppino and Beppo, too, were comparatively useless, though by careful and well-directed inquiries they had ascertained that Luigi Vampa and his band had changed their quarters from the old rendezvous, locating in a fastness that could not be approached without great difficulty and danger. None of the brigands now visited Rome and even Vampa himself seemed distrustful of the future. According to the intelligence gathered by Peppino and Beppo he constantly went about in various disguises that defied detection, studiously avoiding all his accustomed haunts. With regard to the brigand chief's actions Monte-Cristo could entertain but one of two opinions--either he was filled with remorse for his shameful conduct towards poor Annunziata Solara and for his complicity with old Pasquale in bringing the innocent Viscount under suspicion, which was doubtful, or he was afraid that Roman justice stimulated by young Ma.s.setti and such friends as he still possessed would overtake him, which was the more probable. The Count had not hoped for much from Annunziata Solara, though he had calculated somewhat on the effect upon her of his a.s.surance that he possessed conclusive proof of Giovanni's innocence. His recent interview with the girl, however, had established the fact that she firmly believed the Viscount guilty, and it was fair to presume that she would retain her belief in the face of everything with all the proverbial obstinacy of woman. Besides, after all, what was his conclusive proof? Simply the unsupported a.s.sertions of a former member of Vampa's band, who in making them had clearly been actuated by a desire of wreaking personal vengeance upon old Pasquale Solara!

The Count was not a little discouraged, but his own conviction of the truth of Peppino's statement was as strong as ever and, notwithstanding all the apparently insurmountable obstacles, he did not doubt that he would eventually find some way to force Vampa and the shepherd into a full confirmation of every diabolical detail related by the ex-bandit in the cell of the police poste in Paris.

As he sat thus communing with his sombre thoughts and reflecting that the delay might stretch out into many months, a knock was heard at his door and in response to his permission Peppino entered the salon.

A glance at the man's pale and agitated countenance was sufficient to tell Monte-Cristo that something unusual had happened.

"Well," said he, gazing keenly at him, "what is it?"

The man looked hastily about the apartment and, having satisfied himself that his master was alone, came close to him, bending down and whispering in his ear:

"Signor Count, a strange visitor is below, asking to see you. He is garbed like a Roman n.o.ble and his face is made up with paints and cosmetics like that of an actor on the stage of a theatre. Still, I think I have pierced his disguise and that he is no less a personage than Luigi Vampa himself!"

"Ah!" said the Count, rising, with a smile of satisfaction. "Heaven grant that you are correct! If Vampa is here, his visit will simplify matters."

"But you do not mean to see the brigand chief, do you, Signor Count?"

said Peppino, in a startled tone.

"Why, pray, should I not see him when for so long I have been impatiently awaiting an opportunity to meet him?" asked Monte-Cristo, in amazement.

"Because," answered the Italian, with an unmistakable display of fear, "he may have divined your mission to Rome and his business with you here to-day may be a.s.sa.s.sination!"

Monte Cristo laughed heartily.

"My good fellow," said he, in a rea.s.suring tone, "dismiss your childish terrors. Vampa will not dare even to attempt to harm me! Show the mysterious visitor up and let the problem of his ident.i.ty be solved!"

"I know your power over Vampa, Signor Count," returned Peppino, hesitating, "but still in this peculiar instance it may fail you!"

"Pshaw!" said the Count, impatiently. "I tell you I do not fear Vampa.

Show him up at once."

Peppino very reluctantly quitted the salon, soon returning with the suspicious visitor.

Monte-Cristo advanced to meet the new comer, who silently pointed to Peppino, motioning towards the door. The Count nodded to the ex-bandit and with a slow step he left the room.

Although Vampa was carefully disguised and even elegantly dressed in the fashionable attire of the Roman aristocracy, Monte-Cristo, like Peppino, had no difficulty whatever in recognizing him.