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 Massetti 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 assistance 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 reassuring, 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 passing on when the

latter hailed him. He paused, somewhat alarmed, and his hand

instinctively grasped a weapon concealed in his bosom. Esperance

hastened to reassure him.

"Have no fear," he said. "We are merely travelers, and one of us is

grievously wounded. In Heaven's name, render what assistance 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 assailant.

"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 assistance 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

circumstances, 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 assured 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 assure 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 clustering 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.

"Hush!" 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 Massetti. "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 assistance 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.

The guide uttered a sigh of relief.

"I am glad," said he, "for Pasquale Solara does not like strangers. Were

he here he might refuse to exercise hospitality towards this wounded man

and his companion, even though they are, as they assert, friends of

Luigi Vampa."

"Friends of Luigi Vampa!" echoed the girl, becoming greatly alarmed.

"The Blessed Virgin protect us!"

"They are not brigands, at any rate," said the peasant, "and I believe

them honest men. If, however, they are deceiving me, I shall know how to

act!"

There was an ominous flash in his eye as he spoke, and his hand again

sought the weapon concealed within his bosom. Esperance, who had been

intently listening to this conversation and had marked every motion of

the young peasant, felt his suspicions revive; but there was no time for

hesitation; shelter and aid for his friend were of the first necessity;

they must be obtained at once and at any cost. He had refrained from

offering the peasant money, not wishing to betray that he and his

companion were other personages than they seemed, and now that

Annunziata had appeared upon the scene he congratulated himself on the

wisdom of his course. He, nevertheless, feared Giovanni's impulsiveness

in the presence of the girl he so much admired, and determined to watch

him as closely as possible, in order to promptly check all damaging

disclosures. If Giovanni remained in this attractive nook long enough to

open and carry on a flirtation with the beautiful flower-girl, he must

do so solely as a peasant and under the cover of his clever disguise. It

was hardly likely that Annunziata would recognize in Massetti and

himself the two youthful gallants she had encountered but for a moment

amid the gay throng and crush of the brilliant Piazza del Popolo.

While these thoughts went flashing through his mind, the young Viscount,

leaning heavily upon his arm, had not taken his eyes from the handsome,

tempting girl before him. Suffering as he was, he longed to be at her

side, to clasp her lovely shape, to feel her warm, voluptuous breath

stream over his face and imprint kiss after kiss on her ripe red lips.

He had not forgotten Zuleika. Oh! no! But Annunziata Solara was an

altogether different being, a girl to delight him, intoxicate him, for a

moment as the other for life. For Monte-Cristo's daughter his feeling

was love, for the fascinating flower-girl of the Piazza del Popolo it

was a passion to be sated.

After a few more words to his sister, the peasant returned to the young

men, aiding Esperance to transport Giovanni into the cabin. The interior

of this humble abode was as neat and picturesque as the exterior. The

room they entered was small and cheaply furnished, but feminine taste

was everywhere displayed. A single candle was the only light, but the

scanty illumination sufficed to show the refining touches of a woman's

hand. In one corner stood a bed, the covers of which were turned down,

and upon which was impressed the shape of its late occupant. At the head

of the bed a brass crucifix was suspended from the wall, while over the

back of a chair hung articles of a woman's apparel. Giovanni could not

doubt that he was in Annunziata's chamber, and that the imprint on the

bed was hers. He felt a thrill of joy at the idea that he was to occupy

the bewitching flower-girl's couch, to occupy, perhaps, the very place

where she had lain but a short time before.

Annunziata, who had thrown a cloak over her shoulders and night clothes,

but whose feet were still bare, had accompanied her brother and his

companions to the apartment. She eyed the strangers timidly, but

curiously, though it was quite plain she failed to penetrate their

disguise. With deft hands she rearranged the bed and removed her

garments from the chair. Then she retired to another room, and the

wounded Viscount was aided to undress and assisted into the couch by the

peasant and Esperance, where he eventually fell asleep in a delirium of

bliss, after his hurt had been properly cared for.

Esperance was duly bestowed for the night, and soon unbroken silence

brooded over the solitary cabin in the forest.

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.