Among the details of the Count of Monte-Cristo's plan for the rehabilitation of Giovanni Massetti was a visit to Annunziata Solara at the Refuge in Civita Vecchia. This visit he made one morning in company with Zuleika and M. and Mme. Morrel. Madame de Rancogne was delighted to see the Count and cordially welcomed him and his party.

"So this handsome young lady is your daughter, Edmond," she said, seating herself beside Zuleika and taking her hand. "How rapidly time flies. To-day we are in the midst of the enjoyment of youth and to-morrow we are the middle-aged people of our locality. Then in another brief space we are the aged, after which comes death!"

Zuleika blushed at Helena's compliment to herself and looked at her curiously while she delivered the closing part of her speech. But the Countess of Monte-Cristo of the past was not of a sombre nature, and, smiling, she added:

"The most dazzling and enchanting side to the picture of youth is love! Has Zuleika, Count, ever experienced the tender passion? It will be exceedingly strange if she has not."

Monte-Cristo's daughter blushed again.

The Count smiled as he replied:

"Yes, Helena, Zuleika has experienced the crowning passion of life. She is betrothed to the Viscount Giovanni Massetti of Rome."

"What!" exclaimed Mme. de Rancogne, stricken with amazement and horror. "That Giovanni Massetti who has been disowned and disinherited by his father for the commission of one of the vilest and most dishonorable crimes known to the world?"

"The same!" answered Monte-Cristo, calmly.

Mme. de Rancogne was now more astounded than ever.

"You know this man's record and yet you allow him to win your daughter! Count, this is not like you! I cannot understand it!"

"Helena," returned Monte-Cristo, "this poor young man has been maligned, falsely accused by persons inimical to him."

The Superior of the Order of Sisters of Refuge slowly but firmly shook her head, looking the while at the Count and his daughter with an expression of deep sympathy and compassion upon her noble countenance.

"You have been deceived, imposed upon, Edmond," she rejoined. "There can be no doubt whatever as to the young man's terrible and damning guilt. Besides, my assertion admits of immediate verification and proof. Massetti's unfortunate victim, the beautiful peasant girl Annunziata Solara, is now an inmate of this institution whither she dragged herself when overcome by shame and suffering of the keenest description, seeking to find here an asylum and a cloister where prying eyes could not find her out and where the venomous tongue of scandal could not tear open her wounds and set them to bleeding afresh. She is a member of our Order, has devoted the rest of her days to the achievement of good actions and the raising up of the fallen and betrayed of her sex. Annunziata Solara is here, almost within sound of my voice, and will, though with reluctance I am convinced, confirm every word I have uttered relative to her cowardly and villainous abductor!"

"To hold an interview with this unfortunate creature is what has brought me here with Zuleika and my friends the Morrels," said the Count. "Of course, I wished to see you, Helena, and enjoy once again the pleasure of your society," he added, his agreeable smile accompanying his words.

The Superior bowed gracefully and arose.

"I can understand then your anxiety to see and speak with Annunziata at the earliest possible moment. Therefore, I will immediately summon her to this apartment where the desired interview can take place without delay."

As she uttered these words Mme. de Rancogne hastened from the salon, shortly afterwards returning with the former flower-girl of the Piazza del Popolo in Rome.

Annunziata stood for an instant in the centre of the apartment, gazing inquiringly at the visitors, for Mme. de Rancogne had not informed her of their business, preferring that Monte-Cristo in his wisdom and experience should conduct the interview and develop his wishes in his own peculiar fashion.

The Count and Maximilian gazed at old Pasquale Solara's daughter with considerable interest, but it was an interest altogether masculine. Valentine also looked at her attentively, with that searching, penetrating look one woman invariably casts upon another. As for Zuleika, her eyes literally devoured the peasant girl, flashing with what was not exactly hatred for a rival but rather an instinctive fear and distrust. She was well aware that Giovanni had flirted with this girl, had been enthralled by her physical charms, had almost yielded to her sway, and she felt a peculiar interest in the creature who had temporarily at least stolen the heart of her lover from her.

Annunziata had been greatly benefited by her sojourn in the calm and quiet Refuge. She had by a great and heroic exercise of her strength of mind put aside from her all thoughts of her lamentable history, of her suddenly clouded and terrible past. She had thoroughly abandoned herself to the discipline and duties of the Sisters of the Order of Refuge, and had sought with more or less success even to forget herself. Her unruffled life, passed in the continual doing of good, filled her with peacefulness and satisfaction, and for the first time in a long while she fully realized what it was to be perfectly contented and happy. In consequence her physical condition had improved, promptly responding to her mental ease. She had recovered the beauty she had lost during her confinement in the bandits' hut and her subsequent wanderings as a homeless, starving outcast. Her plumpness had also returned, and her glance had all the brightness and gayety that had formerly distinguished it. Still a general refinement had taken possession of her, and Annunziata was no longer the child of nature she had been when she lived in the romantic cabin in the forest.

Madame de Rancogne was the first to speak.

"Sister Annunziata," she said, "here are his Excellency the Count of Monte-Cristo, Zuleika his daughter, and M. and Mme. Morrel. Allow me to make you acquainted with them and to assure you that they are true friends of mine, firmly to be relied on. They wish to interrogate you in regard to a certain matter. You can answer their questions without fear and without the slightest hesitation. The Count of Monte-Cristo is the very soul of chivalry and honor!"

The Count bowed in acknowledgment of this well-turned speech and, addressing Annunziata, who, notwithstanding Mme. de Rancogne's assurances, began to tremble and feel distressed, said:

"Sister Annunziata, I wish to ask you certain important questions as your Superior has told you. I am pursuing an investigation that promises to be fruitful in the very best results of the highest possible good. Sister Annunziata, I wish your aid in clearing the record of an innocent man, one who has suffered as greatly as you have and for whom you can, therefore, feel pity and sympathy. I allude to the Viscount Giovanni Massetti."

The girl gave a sudden start and turned ghastly pale.

"The Viscount Giovanni Massetti?" repeated she, interrogatively, half doubting whether she could have heard the name aright.

"Yes," said Monte-Cristo, "the Viscount Giovanni Massetti, who has been falsely accused of having abducted you!"

"Falsely accused!" cried Annunziata. "Why, Signor Count of Monte-Cristo, the wretched young man is guilty of everything with which he has been charged, whether the charges were made by persons inimical to him or not!"

The visitors were still closely watching the peasant girl. They had expected she would say exactly what she had said and, therefore, were not in the slightest degree astonished or disconcerted. Her earnestness and the circumstance that she certainly ought to know the identity of her abductor were well-calculated to inspire confidence in her statements and to induce a belief in the guilt of the young Viscount Massetti.

Monte-Cristo answered Annunziata firmly but considerately.

"Sister," he said, "notwithstanding your belief that Massetti was your abductor, I know the contrary to be true and have in my possession indubitable proof of what I assert!"

Annunziata shook her head.

"The proof must, indeed, be conclusive that would shake my belief!" she said, with a slight trace of bitterness in her tone.

"It is conclusive!"

"But if young Massetti is innocent of my abduction and of my poor brother's murder, who then, in Heaven's name, is the guilty party?"

"Luigi Vampa!"

"Luigi Vampa?"

"Yes. He forced his way into your cabin on that eventful night, abducted you and afterwards shot your brother Lorenzo in the forest."

"You say you have indubitable proof of this. How was it obtained?"

"From a man named Peppino, who overheard all the details of the nefarious bargain and conspiracy entered into by the brigand chief and old Pasquale Solara."

"Pasquale Solara? My father! Oh! Signor Count, what do you mean?"

"Be calm, my child, and listen to me. Your father despicably sold you to Luigi Vampa for a large sum of money and they together so arranged the abduction that all suspicion would fall with crushing force upon the shoulders of the young Italian!"

Annunziata put her hand to her forehead and stood still, rooted to the spot by horror and amazement. She had no great love for her moody and morose father, who never had done anything calculated to inspire affection for him in the bosom of his daughter, but, at the same time, it seemed incredible and horrible to her that her parent should have been guilty of this unnatural behavior towards her, of this unmanly conduct with regard to an innocent guest who in all confidence was partaking of the hospitality his roof afforded. She looked at Monte-Cristo doubtingly and then at Mme. de Rancogne, who was smiling upon her encouragingly.

"As God is my judge," said she, solemnly, "I believe Giovanni Massetti to have been my abductor!"

"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 assert, but I cannot rid myself of my firm and deep-rooted belief in the matter. I have forgiven the Viscount Massetti 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 Massetti?"

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

"So I thought, but oh! daughter of a noble 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 passed 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 passed 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 Massetti 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 Massetti's cause.