M. DantÈs was sitting alone in his library, busily engaged in reading a favorite work on the subject of political economy, and from time to time making copious notes. It was after midnight, and the vast mansion on the Rue du Helder was as silent as the tomb; the lamp on the Deputy's table burned brightly, but a large metallic shade concentrated the light and reflected it upon the table, so that the other portions of the apartment were shrouded in almost complete darkness.

As M. DantÈs read a shadow suddenly fell on the page of his book, and quickly looking up he saw his daughter Zuleika standing beside him; tears were in her eyes and a look of melancholy rested upon her countenance.

"Why child," said her father, in a startled tone, "what is the matter with you? You are weeping and seem very sad. Has anything happened to young Massetti?"

"Not that I am aware of, papa," answered Zuleika, in a low voice. "But, nevertheless, it is of him I wish to speak."

M. DantÈs pushed his book from him, motioned his daughter to a seat and prepared to listen as she did not begin at once, but seemed to hesitate, he said, kindly:

"I am waiting, little one; proceed."

Thus encouraged, Zuleika summoned up all her strength and, with downcast eyes, commenced:

"Papa," said she, "in the first place let me assure you that this is no mere lovers' quarrel, but a matter of the utmost importance that demands immediate action."

M. DantÈs knitted his brows.

"Has the Viscount been guilty of any impropriety toward you?" he asked, fiercely.

"No, papa, not toward me, but I fear he may have been guilty of impropriety, or, at least, of indiscretion, with regard to another in the past."

"A woman, no doubt."

"Yes, papa, a woman—a Roman peasant."

"I heard of some such thing while you were at the convent school in Rome, but dismissed it as a slander."

"There may, however, be some truth in it."

"But, now I recollect, Giovanni's name was not associated with the scandal; it was a mere inference on my part that connected him with the youthful member of the Roman aristocracy mentioned by the gossips."

"Perhaps I am unjust, papa, in reviving your suspicions, but Giovanni's strange behavior when I asked him the cause of his quarrel with EspÉrance and of the continued coldness between them, forced me to think there was something wrong."

"His quarrel with EspÉrance? Ah! now I remember, there was a quarrel, but I imagined it was settled, and that their relations were altogether friendly."

"They are enemies, papa, or seem to be, and that is not all—EspÉrance accuses Giovanni of having been guilty of some infamous deed."

"You have spoken to EspÉrance then on the subject?"

"Yes, papa."

"And what did he say?"

"He dealt in vague denunciations, and positively refused to give me any definite information."

"That is singular."

"But what is still more so is that both Giovanni and EspÉrance seem bound by some fearful oath not to disclose the dread secret in their possession."

"Bound by an oath?"

"Yes, papa; but why both of them should have been so bound, unless they were accomplices, I cannot see; I even went so far as to accuse EspÉrance of complicity, whereupon he grew as white as chalk and protested his entire innocence, and in his confusion uttered the name of Luigi Vampa."

"Zuleika, Zuleika, you certainly misunderstood your brother; he could not have mentioned the name of that man! Do you know who this Luigi Vampa is?"

"Perfectly, papa; Luigi Vampa is a notorious Roman brigand."

"Exactly, my child, and therefore could not possibly have had any dealings either with the Viscount or EspÉrance."

"But I am sure of the name, nevertheless. EspÉrance said Luigi Vampa."

M. DantÈs was evidently startled; he arose to his feet and paced the library excitedly. Zuleika had expected this, and hence was not surprised. At last her father resumed his seat, and when he again came within reach of the lamp's rays she saw that his visage was even more pallid than usual and that he was not a little agitated. She waited for him to speak, and in a few seconds he did so.

"Zuleika," said he, in a tone of decision, "I will see both the Viscount and my son in regard to this matter, for now that Luigi Vampa seems to have had a share in it, close investigation is imperatively demanded."

"You may interrogate them, papa, but I am convinced in advance that you will derive no information from either of them. The strange power that holds sway over them you cannot break, but there is one thing you can do."

"What is that, Zuleika?"

"Write to Luigi Vampa!"

"Write to Vampa? Why should I do that?"

"Because I feel assured that he is in possession of the full details of the terrible secret, whatever it may be, and will communicate them to you if you ask him to do so."

M. DantÈs gazed at his daughter curiously.

"What makes you think I have such influence over this Roman brigand?" he asked, sharply.

"Oh! papa, do not be angry with me!" cried Zuleika; "but I have heard how Vampa released the Viscount de Morcerf at your simple solicitation without a single franc of ransom, though he had previously demanded a very large amount from the unfortunate man as the price of his liberty. I have heard this, and the natural inference I drew was that, if the brigand chief went so far as to surrender his prey to you, he would certainly answer your letter and tell you all he knew about the matter that so closely concerns my happiness and EspÉrance's good name."

"I am not angry with you, my child," replied the Deputy, in a milder tone, "for I know how deeply you have this affair at heart. I will write to Luigi Vampa as you desire, this very night, and in two weeks at the furthest his answer may be expected, but to-morrow I will talk with EspÉrance and then will question the Viscount. Rest assured that this matter shall be sifted to the bottom. I know the extent of your love for Giovanni Massetti; I also feel confident that I am not deceived in him, and that he will be amply able to prove himself entirely worthy of your hand. I have seen too much of men, Zuleika, and studied them too deeply, to be deceived in reading character."

"Oh! thank you, thank you ever so much, papa, both for your promise, and your kind, encouraging words. I, too, have full faith in Giovanni, but still I cannot rest satisfied until his record is entirely and conclusively cleared. No one must have the power to breathe even a suspicion against the good name of your daughter's husband!"

"Spoken like a girl of spirit!" said M. DantÈs, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm and admiration. "Now leave me, and I will write to Vampa."

Zuleika kissed her father and quitted the library with a much lighter heart than she had entered it.

M. DantÈs, by the exercise of his iron will, had managed to control himself in her presence, but now that she had gone he gave free course to his emotions. For a full hour he sat leaning on his writing-table, his frame convulsed with anguish, and his mind filled with sad forebodings. He did not for an instant doubt that both EspÉrance and the Viscount could clear themselves from any criminal or dishonorable charge, if they would consent to open their lips, but their silence and Zuleika's belief that they were bound by some fearful oath gave him great uneasiness. Besides, his son had mentioned Luigi Vampa's name, and the thought that the young man was involved in some complication with the Roman bandit sent a chill to his heart. He was convinced that whatever had occurred had been merely the result of the folly and headlong disposition of youth, but this was scarcely a consolation, for he well knew to what length young men sometimes allowed themselves to be carried, especially in what they considered a love-affair.

In addition, the more he thought of the half-forgotten Roman scandal, the more clearly its particulars returned to him. He remembered that a young and handsome peasant girl had been mysteriously abducted, and that eventually she had been brought back to her home by one of the shepherds known to be in league with Luigi Vampa and his band. She asserted that she had been carried off to the bandits' haunt by her youthful lover, who had passed for a peasant lad, but was in reality a nobleman. This was all M. DantÈs could distinctly recall, though he was certain he had heard other details that had slipped his memory. At the period of the abduction, he now remembered, both EspÉrance and the Viscount were temporarily absent from Rome; then followed their return and the quarrel that had almost resulted in a duel, but had suddenly been patched up without apparent reason. Had EspÉrance and the Viscount been concerned in the abduction? That was a question that only they or Luigi Vampa could answer, and it was evident the young men would not speak. Vampa then must be made to speak for them; that was the sole course left to pursue, for the peasant girl had disappeared immediately after her return, and her whereabouts were a mystery.

M. DantÈs drew writing materials before him and wrote his letter to the brigand chief; it was brief, but to the point. When it was finished, it bore the signature, "Edmond DantÈs, Count of Monte-Cristo." The Deputy placed it in the drawer of his table to go by mail the following morning, having first folded and sealed it. "Thomson and French, Rome," was the direction it bore.