The young man put his hand to his forehead and seemed to be striving to collect his scattered senses.
"Zuleika?—Zuleika?" he murmured. "Monte-Cristo's daughter? Yes, yes, I have heard of her before—a long time back in the dreary past! I read of her in some book of history or the verses of some oriental poet. She was a Queen!—yes, she was a Queen! Well, what of this Zuleika?"
He stood as if waiting for some Arabian romance to be unfolded to him, with parted lips and a vacant smile sorrowful to see.
Since his interview with the old Count Massetti Maximilian's hope for the success of his difficult mission had been but a very slender thread. Now that thread was stretched to its utmost tension, and Zuleika's ambassador felt that it must shortly snap asunder and vanish irrecoverably. Love is ever a potent influence with man but this poor demented creature appeared to have lost even the faintest conception of the crowning passion of life, since Zuleika's name, the name of his betrothed, had failed to awaken his memory or touch a sympathetic chord in his bosom.
As Maximilian stood uncertain what to do next, but as yet reluctant to abandon the miserable Viscount to his fate, Valentine came to him and, placing her hand on his arm, said:
"My husband, it is useless to endeavor to move this unfortunate man in his present condition; his mind is incapable of rational action. Only by care and soothing influence can he be restored to himself. He must be induced to accompany us to some asylum, some institution where he can be treated for his dreadful malady."
"You are right, Valentine, as you always are," answered M. Morrel. "The course you suggest is the only one to be taken at this juncture. But how is Giovanni to be induced to accompany us? Force cannot be employed—we have no legal right to use it—and I greatly fear that the Viscount will not follow us of his own accord, no matter to what solicitations we may resort."
"Trust that to me, Maximilian," rejoined Valentine, sweetly and persuasively. "Remember what I said about a woman's wit and tenderness."
"I remember it, and now, if ever, is the time for the trial of their power, for I have utterly failed. But, surely, Valentine, you do not propose to risk dealing with this poor man whose mind is reduced to chaos and who might, in a sudden access of unaccountable fury, do you harm even before I could interfere?"
"I certainly do propose dealing with him! I am an enchantress, you know, and now you shall witness a further and more convincing proof of the potency of my spells than was shown in bringing your dead hope to life!"