Monte-Cristos Daughter | Page 7

of him for my wife; until then, until I can
with safety speak, at least promise me that you will love no other man,
encourage no other suitor."
"That I will do," responded the girl, joyously. "Rest assured I will love
no other man, encourage no other suitor!"
Unable to control himself, the Viscount again clasped the object of his
adoration in his arms, and again their lips met in a long, passionate kiss
of love.
So it was settled, and Zuleika went to the convent school of the Sacred
Heart, feeling that her happiness was assured, but impatient of and
dissatisfied with the long delay that must necessarily intervene before
the realization of her hopes, the dawn of her woman's future.
The Viscount Massetti, though he had professed himself willing to wait,
was, on his side, thoroughly discontented with the arduous task he had
undertaken. It was one thing to make a rash promise in the heat of
enthusiasm, but quite another to keep it, especially when that promise
involved a separation from the lovely girl who had inextricably
entwined herself about the fibres of his heart and was the sole guiding
star of his life and love.
The convent school of the Sacred Heart was located in the convent of
that Sisterhood, about three miles beyond the Porta del Popolo on the
northern side of Rome. The convent was a spacious edifice, but gloomy
and forbidding, with the aspect of a prison. Narrow, barred windows,
like those of a dungeon of the middle ages, admitted the light from
without, furnishing a dim, restricted illumination that gave but little
evidence of the power and brilliancy of the orb of day. At night the
faint, sepulchral blaze of candles only served to make the darkness
palpable and more ghastly.
The huge school-room was as primitive and comfortless in its
appointments and furniture as well could be. The walls were of dressed

stone and loomed up bare and grisly to a lofty ceiling that was covered
with a perfect labyrinth of curiously carved beams, the work of some
unknown artist of long ago. The scholars' dormitories were narrow
cell-like affairs, scantily furnished, in which every light must be
extinguished at the hour of nine in the evening. Once admitted to the
school, the pupils were not permitted to leave its precincts save at
vacation or at the termination of their course of studies, a circumstance
that heartily disgusted the gay, light-hearted Italian girls sent there to
receive both mental and moral training. Another source of grave
vexation to them was the regulation, already alluded to, that rigorously
excluded all male visitors, with the exception of parents or guardians.
Attached to the convent was an extensive garden, full of huge trees that
had, apparently, stood there for centuries, so bent, gnarled and aged
were they. An ancient gardener, with a flowing beard as white as snow
and scanty locks of the same spotless hue, aided by two or three
assistants almost as ancient as himself, attended to the lawns and vast
flower-beds, the latter being kept constantly filled with plants of
gorgeous bloom and exquisite fragrance. The picturesque appearance of
the garden contrasted strongly and strangely with the rigid and staid
aspect of the convent edifice, and this garden was the one spot where
the pupils felt at home and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They were
allowed to walk there at noon and towards twilight in the evening,
under the supervision of Sister Agatha, a sharp-sighted and vigilant nun,
who never failed to rebuke and correct her vivacious charges for even
the slightest infraction of discipline. Still, the girls enjoyed themselves
in the garden, for its extent and the fact that Sister Agatha could not be
everywhere at once enabled the frisky and light-hearted pupils to
indulge in many an escapade.
One noon Zuleika, who was in an unusually despondent frame of mind,
strayed from the rest of her companions and strolled beneath the
centenarian trees. Unconsciously she approached the lofty wall of the
garden. She seated herself at the foot of a gnarled old elm, the leafy
branches of which descended to the ground and effectually screened
Monte-Cristo's daughter from view. At least, so she thought, but though
she could not be seen by any within the garden enclosure she was

plainly visible from the wall and the trees looming above it without.
As Zuleika sat pondering on her lot and sadly thinking of her separation
from her lover, she heard or imagined she heard a singular noise amid
the thick boughs of an immense chestnut tree immediately outside the
garden wall. She started up in affright, but could discern nothing
unusual, and the singular noise was not repeated. The strangest part of
the whole affair, however, was that the noise had sounded like