Monte-Cristo's Daughter Part 9

"Release them!" thundered the stranger. "Ludovico should have known better then to have interfered with _my_ friends!"

He was instantly obeyed, and the two young men, greatly astonished, stood relieved of their bonds.

"You are at liberty," continued the stranger, "and can resume your route. Say to the Count of Monte-Cristo that Luigi Vampa remembers his compact and is faithful to it!"

As he spoke the notorious bandit chief gathered his men together, and the whole band vanished among the trees like so many spirits of the night.

CHAPTER VII.

IN THE PEASANT'S HUT.

For a moment the two young men stood silent and astounded. So sudden had been the change from imminent peril to safety that they could hardly comprehend it. Luigi Vampa had come and gone like a flash, and both bandits and danger had been dispelled by the wonderful magic of Monte-Cristo's name. The brigand chief had styled Giovanni and Esperance his friends, and as such they knew the entire country in the vicinity of Rome was free to them; they could travel it by day or by night without fear of molestation. Esperance cared little for this, but Giovanni was elated by it, for it would enable him to seek out Annunziata Solara without risk of interruption or impediment. But what was the Count of Monte-Cristo's mysterious power? That was a question difficult, indeed, to answer. At any rate, even the fierce Luigi Vampa bowed to it, and it was as undisputed as it was strange.

The Viscount Ma.s.setti was the first to realize the necessity of a rapid push for Rome. He was faint from loss of blood and excitement; besides, his shattered arm throbbed violently and gave him twinges of excruciating pain. He felt himself sinking and urged his friend to hasten. Esperance acquiesced, and, supporting the young Italian as best he could, they resumed the homeward journey. Scarcely a mile had been traversed, however, when Giovanni threw himself upon the sward at the foot of a great tree, declaring that it was altogether impossible for him to advance another step. The throbbing in his arm had become unbearable, taking his breath away and filling him with a sickening sensation.

They were yet far from Rome, and not a sign of a habitation could be discerned in any direction. Waiting for daylight to come was not to be thought of; it would be some hours before dawn, and even when the sun had arisen it was by no means certain that a.s.sistance would be procurable. Meanwhile Giovanni would suffer torments, to say nothing of the danger of being exposed in his condition to the influence of the malaria from the surrounding marshes.

Esperance, though unwilling to leave his friend's side for an instant, decided at last that it was imperative for him to go in search of succor. Meanwhile a raging fever had set in and Giovanni was rapidly growing worse. As the son of Monte-Cristo was about to start on his tour of investigation, he heard a man's voice singing at some distance away, but gradually coming nearer. The sound was cheery and rea.s.suring, for certainly the man who could sing so sweetly and joyously must have a good, kind heart. As the man approached Esperance recognized his song--it was that beautiful and expressive serenade, "Cara Nina," a melody dear to all youthful Italian lovers whether humble or of high degree.

The man at length came in sight; he was walking leisurely, but with a long, swinging gait. His voice was a clear, full tenor robusto, and the notes of his delicious love song trilled from his throat with wonderful effect in the still, balmy air of the tranquil, glorious night. He was not over twenty, was a stalwart peasant, and the moonlight showed that he possessed a manly, open countenance. So engrossed was he by his serenade that he failed to notice Giovanni lying at the foot of the huge tree and Esperance standing beside him. He was pa.s.sing on when the latter hailed him. He paused, somewhat alarmed, and his hand instinctively grasped a weapon concealed in his bosom. Esperance hastened to rea.s.sure him.

"Have no fear," he said. "We are merely travelers, and one of us is grievously wounded. In Heaven's name, render what a.s.sistance you can!"

The young peasant turned and came cautiously towards them.

"This is a dangerous neighborhood," said he; "it is infested by bandits of the most reckless and daring description."

"We have abundant reason to know it," answered Esperance, "for we have just had a very narrow escape from a horrible death at the hands of some of Luigi Vampa's men."

"Luigi Vampa's men!" echoed the peasant, in astonishment.

"Yes."

"And they released you of their own accord? I never heard of such a thing! It is not their custom to free their prey, at least without a heavy ransom. Did they rob you, or did you pay them for your liberty?"

"Neither," replied Esperance.

The peasant's amazement was redoubled. He glanced inquiringly at the prostrate Viscount.

"How came your comrade to be wounded?" he asked.

"His arm was shattered by the pistol of a gigantic bandit."

"Ludovico?" demanded the peasant, glancing around him, as if he expected to see the huge a.s.sailant.

"I believe that was his name," returned Esperance. "But he will do no more injury!"

"You do not mean to say that you killed him?"

"I do."

"And yet you were allowed to go free! I cannot understand it!"

"Perhaps not, but you can understand that my friend is badly hurt and needs immediate aid and shelter. Is there not some hospitable cabin in the vicinity to which he can be conveyed, where he can be attended to until a.s.sistance arrives from Rome?"

The peasant hesitated for an instant; then he said:

"My father lives at a short distance from here; he could shelter you if he would, but he is in such terror of the bandits that, under the circ.u.mstances, he would probably close his door against you."

"He need have no fear of the brigands in this case, for Luigi Vampa has just given us a signal proof of his protection. Besides, he a.s.sured us that he was our friend."

"This is singular, indeed," said the peasant, again hesitating. "Luigi Vampa is a friend to but very few, and they are those with whom he is in league. You certainly are not in league with him, or you would not have killed Ludovico!"

"This is no time for parley," replied Esperance. "My friend is suffering, and humanity alone should cause your father to receive him. I will engage to appease Luigi Vampa's anger, should it be aroused; at the worst, I pledge myself to surrender with my friend at the first summons to do so, and to a.s.sure the brigand chief that your father is altogether blameless. Come, can I not prevail upon you to be generous and humane?"

"Well," said the peasant, partially satisfied, "I will trust you, though I am taking a great risk. Should Vampa be offended, he will burn our hut over our heads and murder us all without pity. However, both your wounded friend and yourself shall have such poor shelter as our humble roof affords."

Giovanni was aided to arise, and, taking him between them, Esperance and the peasant began their walk. Fortunately they did not have far to go, otherwise the young Viscount's failing strength would have been unequal to the task. They quitted the highway, plunging into a narrow footpath closely wooded on either side; so thickly, in fact, did the tree branches interlace overhead that the moonbeams were effectually excluded and almost impenetrable darkness reigned. For an instant Esperance was apprehensive of treachery, but this fear was dispelled when he thought of the manly bearing of the youthful peasant and the dread of the brigands he had expressed. The three could scarcely walk abreast in the narrow pathway, and every now and then Giovanni stumbled against some protruding root or other obstacle invisible in the obscurity; but the peasant knew the road perfectly, and with no uncertain step hurried his companions on as rapidly as possible.

Soon the path widened somewhat, the light commenced to sift through the dense foliage, and the gurgling of a noisy brook was heard at no great distance. Suddenly they made an abrupt turn, coming in sight of a small, neat-looking cabin, covered with cl.u.s.tering vines and embowered in verdure. The brook dashed along within a few yards of it, the fresh odor of the water mingling gratefully with the perfume of honeysuckles and the aromatic scent of the surrounding forest. It was, indeed, a beautiful and highly romantic spot, a cosy, sequestered nook, such as that in which King Henry hid away his love, the Fair Rosamond, from the prying glances of the inquisitive world. Esperance gazed at it with rapture, and even Giovanni, wounded and exhausted as he was, could not refrain from uttering an exclamation of astonishment and admiration. The cabin was closed and not a sign of life was visible.

"We have arrived," said the peasant, in a low voice. Quitting his companions, he went to a window, against which he gave three distinct raps.

The signal was almost immediately answered by three similar raps from within; then the window was thrown open and a woman's head appeared. The moonlight fell full upon her face, and both Esperance and Giovanni suddenly started as they recognized Annunziata Solara, the bewitching flower-girl of the Piazza del Popolo.

"It is she--it is Annunziata!" whispered the young Viscount in his comrade's ear.

"Hus.h.!.+" returned the latter, in a guarded undertone. "Do not betray yourself! She will never recognize us, disguised as we are! Besides, our guide's suspicions must not be aroused! He might yet refuse us shelter!"

"You are right, as you always are," answered Ma.s.setti. "We must maintain our incognito, at least until we are sure of our ground."

Meanwhile the peasant was speaking hastily with Annunziata.

"Sister," he said, "I am not alone; two travelers, peasants like ourselves, are with me. They were attacked by Luigi Vampa's men, and one of them is sorely wounded."

"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the girl, evidently filled with terror.

"They claim our hospitality for the night and our a.s.sistance until aid can be procured from Rome. In my father's name I have accorded them shelter. Open the door and admit us."

The girl disappeared from the window and in another instant had flung the door open. As she stood there in the silverly light, the state of her garments and hair indicating that she had hurriedly risen from her couch, her bright, picturesque beauty was vastly heightened. The young men thought they had never beheld a more entrancing vision of female loveliness.

"Where is father?" asked the peasant, anxiously.

"He has not yet returned," replied the girl.