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Updated: May 8, 2025
The news of Massetti's sudden and marvellous cure had spread throughout Rome, but people shook their heads when they talked of it and agreed with the opinion expressed by the director of the insane asylum that Dr.
He fixed his eyes upon her, gazing at her like one entranced, paying no heed whatever to the others in the apartment. Valentine glanced at Dr. Absalom, who slowly left his place, gliding stealthily to Massetti's side.
Monte-Cristo had not called upon the aged and inflexible nobleman for two reasons he feared that his indignation would get the better of him in an interview and, besides, he knew it would be entirely useless to approach the Count without being armed with young Massetti's complete vindication. During one of those strolls already alluded to the Viscount went much further than usual.
"I am coming to it, Signor Count," said the former bandit, assuming a sitting posture upon the edge of the bed. "You know, of course, that the cause of all the Viscount Massetti's trouble was a certain handsome young peasant girl named Annunziata Solara?" "I have heard it was some woman, but that does not matter; proceed."
Thus was enacted the initial scene of a drama that was destined to be fruitful in disastrous results, results that clouded more than one happy life. In the morning the Viscount Massetti's arm was found to be so much swollen and his wound so painful that it was deemed advisable to send for a physician, who resided in a neighboring hamlet not more than a mile distant from the cabin of the Solaras.
M. Dantès resumed, looking at her fixedly the while: "My daughter, as you were then attending the convent school I felt it my duty to deny Giovanni Massetti's solicitation, nay, his ardent, impetuous prayer, but I did not deprive him of all hope; I gave him permission to urge his suit with you personally after a year from that time had elapsed. Did I do right?"
It was a brief letter. He held it to the candle and, with a sickening sensation at his heart, read as follows: DEAREST ANNUNZIATA: All is prepared. We will fly to-night. Be ready. The note was in Massetti's handwriting. Espérance silently passed it to him. The Viscount read it with eyes bulging from their sockets, his fingers trembling so he could scarcely hold the paper.
"A letter my father received from Rome in response to inquiries he made and the illusion it must be an illusion under which my brother Espérance labors in regard to Giovanni." "Your brother Espérance! Then he believes in young Massetti's guilt?" "Alas! yes; he firmly believes in it and stigmatizes the Viscount as the worst of scoundrels."
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 Massetti's chamber, a wide corridor separating the two apartments.
Massetti's convulsion had passed away, his hands had uncurled and his unearthly pallor had been succeeded by a faint flush. He reclined in his chair as if wrapped in a healthful slumber. Presently his lips parted. "Zuleika!" he murmured. "Oh! my beloved!" Dr. Absalom glanced at the Italian physician significantly, triumphantly.
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