"I repeat that I have no son!"
Maximilian was sorely puzzled. He knew not what to think or say. The old nobleman arose as if to terminate the interview. He showed no trace of excitement, but M. Morrel felt certain that he was a prey to an internal agitation that he with difficulty controlled. There could be no doubt that Giovanni was what he had represented himself to be, for had he not passed as the Viscount Massetti in Rome as well as in Paris? But one solution to the mystery offered itself—the Count had disowned his son, disowned him because of the terrible crime with which he was charged, from which he had been apparently unable to clear himself. M. Morrel also arose, but he was unwilling to depart thus, to be summarily dismissed as it were. He determined to make one more effort to get at the truth.
"Count," he said, "I do not wish you to misunderstand me, to impute to mere idle curiosity my desire to be informed concerning this unfortunate and unhappy young man. I know that a black cloud hangs over him, that at present he is branded and disgraced. I was not aware, however, that his family had cast him off."
"Monsieur," returned the Count, impatiently, "you are strangely persistent."
"I am persistent, Count," said Maximilian, earnestly, "because the Viscount Massetti is not alone in his misfortune. Another, an estimable young lady, is now languishing in Paris on his account."
"I pity her!" said the old nobleman, impressively.
"So do I," rejoined Maximilian; "from the bottom of my heart I pity them both and that is the reason I am here."
"May I ask the name of this estimable young lady?"
"Certainly. Her name is Zuleika; she is the daughter of the world-famous Count of Monte-Cristo."
Old Massetti gave a start and the muscles of his face twitched nervously, but he managed to control himself and said: