Monte-Cristos Daughter | Page 8

her own
name uttered by a human voice. This increased her terror and confusion,
and she was about to flee from the spot when an oblong pebble to
which something white was attached fluttered over the wall and fell at
her feet. She was now more alarmed then ever and took several steps
backward, the while regarding the white object that lay where it had
fallen, motionless and fascinating.
Finally her curiosity obtained the mastery, and, approaching the
suspicious object with the utmost caution, she bent over to examine it.
It was an ordinary envelope and, no doubt, contained a letter. For
whom was it intended? Obviously for one of the pupils. It was a
clandestine epistle, too, otherwise it would have come by the regular
channel through the post office. Perhaps it was a love letter. At this
thought she gave a guilty start and gazed piercingly into the chestnut
tree, but nothing was visible there save boughs and leaves. After all, the
epistle was, doubtless, destined for some swarthy-visaged Italian
beauty, and many such were in the convent school. That it had fallen at
her feet was certainly but a mere coincidence. It was not, it could not be
intended for her! Its rightful owner, who had clearly received many
similar notes in the same way, knew where it was and presently would
come for it. The envelope had fallen face downward, and she could not
see the address. She touched it with her foot, then cautiously turned it
with the tip of her shoe. She saw writing. It was the address. Somehow
the arrangement of the characters seemed familiar to her, though she
was so dazed and confused she could not make out the name. Her
curiosity was unworthy of her, she knew, unworthy of Monte-Cristo's
daughter. What right had she to pry into the heart secret of one of her
school companions? Still she gazed; she could not help it. Suddenly she
stooped and took the envelope from the ground. The address riveted her

eyes like a magician's spell. Great heavens! it was her own
name--Zuleika!
Hurriedly snapping the slight string that bound the envelope to the
stone, she thrust the former into the bosom of her dress. Then she
glanced around her, half-fearing she had been seen by some of the
pupils or the watchful Sister Agatha. But no, she was unobserved, and
even now her companions and the nun were at such a distance that she
could read her letter without the slightest danger of being discovered or
interrupted. The temptation was strong. She yielded to it. She would
read the letter. She felt convinced that it was from the Viscount
Massetti, and the conviction filled her with unutterable joy. She had not
heard a word concerning him since she had been immured within the
sombre walls of that dismal convent, and now she had tidings of him in
his own handwriting! It was rapture! What had he written to her? An
assurance of his love, no doubt, and, perhaps, an exhortation to her to
keep her part of their agreement--to love no other man, to encourage no
other suitor! Surely she loved no one else--she never could love any
one but Giovanni Massetti, for did he not possess her whole heart, all
the wealth of her ardent youthful affection?
She kissed the envelope, then opened it, took out the letter, which was
written in pencil, and read:
DEAREST ZULEIKA: I can keep from you no longer. I must see you
once more and again call you my own. I strove to attract your attention
just now in the chestnut tree outside the wall. I uttered your beloved
name, but you did not seem to understand me. This evening at twilight
I will scale the wall. At that time be at the elm where you now stand
and I will meet you there. Do not fail me, and, above all, do not be
afraid. I assure you that no harm can possibly befall either of us. Meet
me, darling. Your own, GIOVANNI.
Zuleika stood staring at this passionate note with sensations made up of
amazement, rapture and dismay. Giovanni, her lover, was coming. He
would stand there, on that very spot, and she would see him in all the
glory of his youthful manhood, with the radiant love-light in his eyes.
But how if he were discovered? What then would become of him and

of her? She shuddered at the possibilities of danger. But on one point
she was resolved--she would meet him let the danger be what it might.
How Giovanni would manage to avoid observation she did not know,
but she would trust to his judgment and discretion.
She glanced in the direction of the pupils and Sister Agatha. They were
coming slowly towards