As the time for the arrival of Luigi Vampa's answer to M. DantÈs' letter approached, EspÉrance grew more and more uneasy and serious; he spent the greater portion of every day from home, apparently for the purpose of avoiding his father and sister; when he returned he was moody, depressed and silent, and far into the night he could be heard pacing his chamber as if unable to sleep from excitement and anxiety.

Zuleika endeavored to comfort him, but all her efforts were fruitless. She, poor girl, was herself overwhelmed with her own distress, though she strove to bear up against it. Massetti had neither written to nor attempted to see her since their separation, a circumstance she could not reconcile with his protestations of ardent love for her, and this served vastly to augment her sadness and anguish, though she still believed in her soul that the Viscount was entirely innocent of the crime laid to his charge.

M. DantÈs, who had plunged into politics deeper than ever since the success of the Revolution, was frequently in consultation with the Republican leaders, and many of them visited him at his residence and were closeted with him for hours at a time; but, though seemingly engrossed in State affairs, the Deputy did not lose sight of his son and daughter, or of the mysterious complication that Vampa was expected to make clear. Ali had strict orders to watch both Zuleika and EspÉrance, and to report to his master whatever they did when at home in his absence, but the faithful Nubian found nothing amiss, save that the young people seemed burdened with a sorrow he could not fathom.

At length, when the two weeks that it would take to hear from Rome had expired, M. Lamartine called one morning at the mansion in the Rue du Helder, and having finished his business with M. DantÈs was invited by his host to remain to lunch. The repast was served in the salle-À-manger, EspÉrance and Zuleika partaking of it with their father and his illustrious guest. When the edibles had been removed and the party were taking wine at the dining-table, M. DantÈs, suddenly remembering that he had an engagement, begged M. Lamartine to excuse him and remain with his son and daughter until his return, that would be in half an hour at the utmost. This arrangement effected, the Deputy arose from his chair, threw his cloak over his arm and was about to take his departure, when Ali appeared on the threshold of the open doorway, bearing in his hand a letter. Instantly divining that this was Vampa's answer, upon which hung Massetti's fate and his own, EspÉrance leaped to his feet and fixed his wild and staring eyes on the ominous missive as if he would read its contents through its folds. Zuleika retained her seat, but lifted her hands in terror and stared at the letter with pallid cheeks and blanched lips. Even Lamartine turned in his chair and, holding his glass in his hand, gazed wonderingly at the Nubian and the epistle. M. DantÈs alone seemed unmoved, and his pale countenance gave no sign of the emotion struggling in his breast; he stood like a man of iron, and extending his hand took the letter without a tremor. It was enclosed in a curiously-fashioned envelope, evidently made by the writer himself, and bore the Roman postmark; the direction, written in bold, scrawling, but perfectly legible characters, read: "M. Edmond DantÈs, Deputy from Marseilles, No. 27 Rue du Helder, Paris, France. Personal and private." This direction was in French.

Ali having retired, the Deputy calmly broke the seal and hurriedly ran his eyes over the missive. EspÉrance and Zuleika eagerly and breathlessly watched his countenance while he read, but it was as impassable as a countenance chiseled from marble; when he had finished he turned to EspÉrance and without a word handed him the letter. For a moment the young man trembled so he could not read; cold perspiration stood in heavy beads upon his forehead, and vivid flashes of red passed before his eyes like sheets of lurid lightning. What thoughts, what suspicions, what dread shot through his tortured mind in that brief moment, making it seem an eternity of suffering! At last, steadying and controlling himself by a supreme effort, he read the missive from which he had feared such terrible consequences. It was in Italian, and ran as follows:

His Excellency, the Count of Monte-Cristo:
You ask me to answer your questions, and I comply. Pasquale Solara's daughter, Annunziata, was abducted, from her father's peasant-home by Giovanni Massetti, known as the Viscount Massetti, who is, no doubt, the person to whom you allude as now in Paris, for he has disappeared from Rome. You are right in assuming that he had aid. He was assisted by a young Frenchman, and that young Frenchman was your son, EspÉrance. Annunziata suffered the usual fate of abducted peasant girls, and was deserted by her dastardly abductor in a fastness controlled by my band. When the abduction took place, Annunziata's brother strove to rescue her, but was attacked and killed by Massetti. Through my means the girl was returned to her home, but she was miserable there and fled; she is now in an asylum for unfortunate women founded at Civita Vecchia by the Order of Sisters of Refuge, and superintended by a French lady, a Madame Helena de Rancogne, who, as is said, was formerly called the Countess of Monte-Cristo.[1] It is due to your son to say that he was entirely misled in regard to the abduction of Annunziata Solara, and is altogether innocent of crime or intention to commit it. The whole burden of guilt rests upon the shoulders of the Viscount Massetti, who, I believe, compelled your son at the pistol's mouth to take a fearful oath of silence.

Luigi Vampa.

When EspÉrance had read this letter that so effectually cleared him, and was such a fearful arraignment of the Viscount Massetti, he restored it to his father and sank into his chair utterly overcome by the terrible excitement and mental strain through which he had passed. M. DantÈs forced him to swallow a glass of wine that partially restored him; then, turning to M. Lamartine, who had been an astonished spectator of this strange and to him incomprehensible family scene, he said:

"My dear friend, you are amazed, and you have a right to be. This letter that has caused my son and daughter so much emotion comes from a Roman brigand chief, no other than Luigi Vampa, whose name is notorious throughout Europe. You will understand its importance when I inform you that it conclusively clears my son of an exceedingly grave charge."

M. Lamartine arose and took EspÉrance by the hand.

"I heartily congratulate you," said he.

"And Giovanni Massetti?" asked Zuleika, in a tremulous voice.

"Giovanni Massetti is unworthy of my daughter's hand!" replied M. DantÈs.

"Let me see that letter," said Zuleika, her cheek growing paler and her heart beating tumultuously.

Her father gave it to her. She took it and read each line with an intensity of interest that was painful to behold. When she had reached the end, her eyes suddenly lighted up and the color came rushing back to her pallid cheeks.

"EspÉrance," she said, facing her brother with an air of resolution beneath which he quailed, "Luigi Vampa has not told all! Something he has kept back, and that something you know. What is it? Speak!"

"Luigi Vampa has told the truth!" replied the young man, doggedly.

"Yes, but not the whole truth. What has he kept back?"

EspÉrance shook his head.

"He has told the truth!" he repeated.

"Did the Viscount Massetti administer the oath of silence to you?"

"He did."

"Then who administered that oath to Giovanni?"

The young man did not answer.

"There is some mystery about this complicated affair yet unexplained, and until it is explained I cannot believe Giovanni Massetti guilty!"

"Come, come, my daughter," said M. DantÈs, soothingly, "your heart speaks and not your mind."

"My heart and mind both speak, papa," replied Zuleika, "and both say that Giovanni Massetti is innocent."

"Let him prove it then."

"I feel certain that he can and will."

"Well, well, child, go to Madame DantÈs and take counsel of her. Only a woman can heal a young girl's love wounds."

Zuleika quitted the salle-À-manger, her countenance yet bearing the stamp of an inflexible belief and a fixed determination.

"EspÉrance," said M. DantÈs, "your honor is unstained and you are restored to my heart. I thank God for the blessings of this day!"

"You are a true father, Edmond, as well as a true patriot," said M. Lamartine, "and I feel assured that your son will be worthy of you and of our beloved France."

That very day Giovanni Massetti received an unsigned little note, written in a tiny feminine hand. It was phrased thus:

"I believe you innocent in spite of all! Prove to me and to the world that you are so."

Enclosed in this little note was Luigi Vampa's letter to M. DantÈs.

The next morning it became known that the Viscount Massetti had disappeared from Paris. Gossip assigned a thousand scandalous motives for his sudden flight, but gossip could form no idea as to whither he had fled. Zuleika[2] however, knew that he had returned to Italy to clear his name and prove himself worthy of her love!

[1] The exceedingly romantic history of Madame de Rancogne will be found in that fascinating and absorbing novel, "The Countess of Monte-Cristo," published by Messrs. T. B. Peterson & Brothers, a wonderful book that everybody should read.