Monte-Cristos Daughter | Page 2

alterations in that respect, bringing with him only the family wardrobe and a portion of his library, consisting mainly of oriental manuscripts written in weird, cabalistic characters and intelligible to no one but himself.
The household was made up solely of the Count, his son Esp��rance,[2] his daughter Zuleika, the faithful Nubian mute Ali and five or six male and female domestics. Having no other object than his daughter's education, the Count wished to live in as thorough retirement as he could, but it was impossible for him to keep his presence a secret, and no sooner had it become known that he was in Rome than he was besieged by hosts of callers belonging to the highest nobility, mingled with whom came numerous patriots, disciples of the unfortunate Savonarola, distinguished for their firm devotion to the cause of Italian liberty.
At an early hour of the morning upon which this narrative opens the Count of Monte-Cristo sat alone in a small apartment of the Palazzo Costi, which had been arranged as his study and in which his precious manuscripts were stored in closely locked cabinets. The Count had a copy of a Roman newspaper before him, and his eyes were fixed on a paragraph that seemed to have fascinated him as the serpent fascinates the bird. The paragraph read as follows:
"Mlle. Louise d' Armilly, the famous prima donna, who will sing to-night at the Apollo Theatre her great r?le of Lucrezia Borgia, has, it appears, a deep impenetrable mystery surrounding her. She is French by birth, and is said to be the daughter of a banker, who vanished under peculiar circumstances, but, as she positively declines to speak of her history, we can only give the rumors concerning her for what they are worth. M. L��on d' Armilly, brother of the prima donna, who supports her in Donizetti's opera, also refuses to be communicative. At any rate, the mere hint of the mystery has already caused quite a flutter of excitement in high society circles and that is sufficient to insure a crowded house."
"Louise d' Armilly!" murmured the Count, half-audibly. "The name is familiar, certainly, though where I have seen or heard it before I cannot now recall. The lady is French by birth, the paper says, and that fact, at least, is a sufficient pretext for me to visit her. I will call on her as a fellow countryman, and the interview will demonstrate if she is known to me."
The Count arose, went to his desk and, seating himself there, wrote the following brief epistle:
"Edmond Dant��s,[3] Count of Monte-Cristo, desires permission to call upon Mlle. Louise d' Armilly at ten o'clock this morning. In this desire M. Dant��s is actuated solely by the wish to lay the homage of a Frenchman at the feet of so distinguished an artiste of his own nation as Mlle. d' Armilly."
Having finished, sealed and addressed this note, the Count touched a bell which was immediately answered by the ever-watchful Nubian.
"Ali," said the Count, in the Arabic tongue, "take this letter to the H?tel de France and wait for a reply."
The faithful servant bowed almost to the floor, took the missive and departed. When he had gone, the Count walked the apartment with the long strides habitual to him at such times as he was engrossed by some all-powerful thought.
"Surely," he muttered, "this artiste can in no way interest me personally, and yet I feel a subtile premonition that it would be wise in me to see her."
He was still pacing the study when Ali returned. The Nubian's usually impassible face bore traces of excitement and horror. He prostrated himself at his master's feet and, with his visage pressed against the floor, held up his hand, presenting to the Count the identical letter of which he had been the bearer.
"Why, how is this, Ali?" asked the Count, frowning. "My letter sent back without an answer. The seal has been broken, too. It must have been read."
The mute slowly arose and began an eloquent pantomime which his master readily translated into words: "You went to the H?tel de France and sent up the letter. In ten minutes it was returned to you by the lady's valet, who said all the answer the Count of Monte-Cristo deserved from his mistress was written on the back."
Ali nodded his head in confirmation of his master's translation, looking as if he expected to be severely reprimanded for being the bearer of such an indignity. The Count, however, merely smiled. Curiosity rather than anger predominated in him. He turned the letter over and read, scrawled in pencil in a woman's hand, the following brief and enigmatical but insulting communication:
"Any Frenchman save the ignominious M. Dant��s, the so-called Count of Monte-Cristo, would be welcome to Mlle. d' Armilly. That person she does