Nothing occurred to impede the progress of the HaydÉe and, after a rapid and pleasant voyage, the beautiful craft cast anchor in the harbor of Civita Vecchia, the principal seaport city of the Pontifical States, which owes its origin to the Emperor Trajan. The strict quarantine regulations of the place caused a brief delay, which Monte-Cristo and Zuleika bore with ill-concealed impatience, but the period required by law for purification at length expired and the travelers were accorded official permission to proceed to Rome. Of this they immediately availed themselves and in a short time were in the Eternal City comfortably installed in the best apartments the HÔtel de France afforded.

The Count's first care was to send his card to M. and Mme. Morrel, who at once hastened to his parlor, where the most cordial greetings were exchanged. That Monte-Cristo should be in Rome did not in the slightest degree astonish Maximilian and Valentine, who were fully aware of his habit of suddenly making his appearance in unexpected spots apparently without motive, but the presence of Zuleika at this critical juncture both surprised them and filled them with consternation. What answer should they make to her when she inquired concerning Giovanni? How was the fact of his sad condition to be kept from her when all Rome knew of it and it was the current gossip of the city? Valentine had written several letters to the girl since quitting Paris, but in them had dealt only in generalities; she had studiously refrained from informing her of the true state of things, hoping against hope that she would eventually have some cheering intelligence to impart. The Count, however, speedily relieved the devoted husband and wife of their anxiety. He knew as well as they that his daughter could not fail soon to learn that the Viscount was a maniac and preferred to break the terrible news to her himself. As soon, therefore, as the greetings were over, before Zuleika could whisper to Mme. Morrel the question that was trembling on her lips, the dreaded inquiry as to her lover and his whereabouts, he said, in a quiet tone:

"Maximilian and Valentine, you, no doubt, wonder why we have come to Rome, what is our business here. I will tell you. We have come to clear an unfortunate man, the Viscount Giovanni Massetti, of a fearful charge that has long hung over him."

M. and Mme. Morrel exchanged glances. Now was their time to speak, to avow their mission to Monte-Cristo.

"Count," said Maximilian, pointing to his wife, "we also came hither on the same errand. Zuleika confessed her love for the young Italian to Valentine, who extracted from her the nature of the charge to which you have just alluded. Pardon us for having acted without your authorization, but we desired to succeed before confessing to you the part we had taken in the affair."

Monte-Cristo smiled.

"You need no pardon from me," he said, gently, much affected by this proof of devotion to his daughter and through her to him; "on the contrary you have my gratitude as well as Zuleika's! But what success have you met with?"

"Alas! none of any moment as yet," answered M. Morrel, sadly.

"Such a result was to be expected," returned the Count, gravely. "You had no evidence to establish Giovanni's innocence and it was impossible for you to obtain any. I have the evidence, conclusive evidence! When the proper moment arrives I will produce it, remove the stain from his name and confound his enemies!"

"Thank God!" simultaneously exclaimed M. and Mme. Morrel, Valentine taking Zuleika in her arms, kissing her and clasping her to her bosom.

"But," continued Monte-Cristo, glancing anxiously at his daughter, "the unfortunate young man must first be taken in hand and cured!"

Maximilian and Valentine again exchanged glances. They felt relieved. The Count knew all. He was making the disclosure gradually, considerately. They silently waited for further developments, holding their breath. Valentine's heart beat almost audibly. Zuleika started from her arms and gazed at her father with anxious, astonished eyes.

"Cured?" she repeated, in a tremulous voice. "Is Giovanni ill?"

"He is, my child," answered the Count.

What would he say next? How much was he going to disclose? Surely not the whole of the dreadful truth! These thoughts shot like lightning through the minds of M. and Mme. Morrel. Maximilian stood like a statue, motionless, pale, gazing upon Monte-Cristo as a condemned criminal gazes upon his executioner. Valentine seized her husband's hand and held it like a vise.

Zuleika stared at the Morrels; she could not understand their action, their breathless interest. Then her glance reverted to her father and, for the first time, she saw that, notwithstanding his apparent calmness, he, too, was under the dominion of some intense emotion.

"Father!" she cried, clasping her hands appealingly, "what do you mean? You say that Giovanni is ill, but your look expresses more than your words! With what fearful malady has he been stricken? Tell me, I conjure you! I will be strong—I will bear it!"

"My child," said the Count, in a solemn tone, "then summon all your courage, all your firmness to your aid! Young Massetti, overwhelmed by his troubles, has fallen a prey to a mental disease!"

"Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" groaned Zuleika, in anguish, "do you mean to say that he has lost his mind, that he is a lunatic?"

"Such, alas! is the case! But, my daughter, trust in me! I will find him and science will effect his cure!"

The poor girl, stunned by the terrible intelligence of her lover's condition, stood for an instant with her eyes stonily fixed upon her father. Tears refused to come to her relief. Then she tottered, staggered as if she had been suddenly struck with a heavy missile, and fell fainting into Valentine's outstretched arms. Maximilian assisted his wife to place her in a fauteuil, after which he seized the bell cord.

"For what are you going to ring?" asked Monte-Cristo, who had hurried to his daughter's side.

"For brandy," answered M. Morrel, his hand still on the cord. "It will revive her."

"Never mind the brandy," returned the Count, as he took a small vial containing a red-looking fluid from his pocket and, opening Zuleika's mouth, poured eight drops of the liquid down her throat. "This is the AbbÉ Faria's elixir, a potent remedy that never yet failed of effect! It will work like a charm! See! It is already doing its office!"

As he uttered these words Zuleika moved slightly in the fauteuil, then opened her eyes and gazed about her in bewilderment. Almost immediately, however, she realized that she had swooned and a full sense of her father's terrible though considerately made revelation returned to her. She buried her face in her hands, quivered from head to foot, and then the glistening drops trickling through her fingers told that the tears had at last come to calm her. Valentine bent over her, gently stroking her raven hair and endeavoring in a womanly way to soothe her, while the Count and Maximilian looked on with anxious countenances, waiting for Mme. Morrel's touch and influence to do their work.

Suddenly Zuleika removed her hands from her tear-bathed visage, straightened herself up in the fauteuil and, fixing her glance on Monte-Cristo, said, in a low, faint and gasping tone that betrayed the depth, the intensity, of her emotion:

"Father, you spoke of finding Giovanni! Has he disappeared?"

The Count compressed his lips, hesitating to reply. He wished to keep back as much of the dread truth as possible. He feared the effect upon his daughter of the startling announcement that young Massetti was wandering about amid the ruins of the Colosseum like a second King Lear on the blasted heath. But Maximilian came quickly to his aid.

"There is no need to find the Viscount," he said. "He has already been found and is at present under treatment in a suitable institution, where he is both comfortable and contented."

Zuleika cast a grateful look at M. and Mme. Morrel. Monte-Cristo seized Maximilian's hand and pressed it warmly.

"You have done this, my friend," said he, his countenance brightening, "and I thank you for it!"

"Do not thank me," replied the husband, gazing fondly and admiringly at his wife; "thank Valentine, for she it was who formed the plan and successfully carried it into execution!"

Mme. Morrel cast down her eyes and a heightened color overspread her charming face.

"You are an angel, Valentine!" exclaimed Monte-Cristo, enthusiastically. "Maximilian said awhile ago that no success of any moment had as yet crowned your united efforts, but his statement was too modest. Your success has been conspicuous; you have taken the first step that I designed making and simplified my task to a marked degree. I am deeply indebted to you both."

M. and Mme. Morrel lifted their hands and shook their heads in protest.

"The debt is all on our side," said Maximilian, deprecatingly, "and no matter what we may do we can never discharge it. We owe you the happiness of our lives!"

Monte-Cristo turned the conversation; he took but little credit to himself for the benefits he had conferred upon his fellow-creatures, considering that every good action on his part went towards atoning for the terrible catastrophes he had caused in the prosecution of his relentless vengeance against his old-time enemies.

"Tell me," said he, addressing M. Morrel, "what is the Viscount's present condition. Is he recovering?"

Maximilian looked hastily in the direction of Zuleika; the poor girl was intently watching him, eagerly waiting for his answer. His voice was somewhat unsteady as he replied:

"Ever since he was placed in the institution of which I told you he has received the closest and most skilful care, but his progress is very slow, almost imperceptible, though the physician who is ministering to him has never ceased to assure us that he will ultimately regain the full possession of his health and senses."

"Oh! take me to him, take me to him at once!" cried Zuleika, starting to her feet. "My place is by his side! I will nurse him, I will cure him!"

Monte-Cristo glanced at Maximilian, who shook his head negatively and whispered in the Count's ear:

"It will never do to take her to him now; the shock of seeing him would be too great! He would not even recognize her—he recognizes no one!"

Zuleika divined enough of what was passing to realize that Maximilian opposed her wishes, was striving to prevent her from going to her lover, from ministering to his wants. She sprang to her father, clasped her arms about his neck, and, looking pitifully and pleadingly into his face, exclaimed:

"Oh! take me to Giovanni, take me to him! Do not deny your loving, dutiful daughter's most earnest prayer! Do not deny it, oh! my beloved father, do not deny it!"

Monte-Cristo was touched to the very depths of his soul; M. and Mme. Morrel were equally affected. The Count, however, instantly decided what was to be done. Tenderly, compassionately, embracing his daughter, he said to her, in a soothing voice:

"My child, for the present it is best that you do not go to Giovanni. I will see him for you and without delay put a plan in operation that I do not doubt will result in his speedy cure. I know a wondrous physician whose skill is so great that he can almost restore the dead to life. He belongs to the despised race of Jews, but is a good as well as a marvellous man. His name is Dr. Israel Absalom and he resides here in Rome, within the walls of the shunned and execrated Ghetto, near the Capitoline Mount. I will go to him at once and take him to young Massetti. My daughter, rest assumed that this learned Hebrew will work another miracle and give your lover back to you and in all the glory of his mind and manhood! Be content, therefore, to remain where you are for a brief period, with our devoted friend Valentine as your companion and comforter."

"Yes, Zuleika," said Mme. Morrel, persuasively, "be content to remain with me. I will not quit you even for an instant. We will talk of Giovanni, of the happiness and joy the future has in store for both of you, and, believe me, the hours will pass on rapid wings!"

As Valentine spoke she gently disengaged the girl from her father's neck and passed her arm lovingly around her slender waist. Zuleika's head sank upon her friend's shoulder.

"I yield to my father's solicitations and to your own, Valentine," she said, submissively. "You are older and wiser than I am and what you say is without doubt for the best. I will remain and trust to the wondrous physician."

"I have heard a great deal of this Dr. Absalom since I have been in Rome," said M. Morrel, addressing Monte-Cristo. "The common people regard him as a magician and the higher classes as a cunning charlatan, but, if his legitimate scientific skill is generally denied, his brilliant and marvellous success, even in cases that the best Roman physicians have abandoned as hopeless, is universally admitted."

"Dr. Absalom is neither a magician nor a charlatan," answered Monte-Cristo, warmly, "but a physician of the utmost experience and of the highest possible attainments. He is bent beneath the weight of years and arduous study, yet his eye is as keen and his perception as acute as if he were a youth of twenty. No man knows either his age or his history. I met him long ago in Athens, where I had the good fortune to rescue him from the clutches of a howling mob of ruffians who had seized upon him and were about to slay him as a sorcerer because he had taken into his hut and cured of the plague a wretched Greek who had been cast into the streets to die! For my sake he will save Giovanni!"

"But," said Maximilian, as a sudden thought occurred to him and filled him with dismay, "Dr. Absalom can practise outside of the Ghetto only by stealth and at the risk of being thrown into prison! He will not be allowed to visit the Viscount Massetti!"

The Count of Monte-Cristo drew himself up proudly and his peculiar smile passed over his countenance.

"I will take care of that!" he said, impressively.

Zuleika was left with Mme. Morrel, and, accompanied by Maximilian, Monte-Cristo at once started for the Ghetto.