The Count and Maximilian gazed at old Pasquale Solara's daughter with considerable interest, but it was an interest altogether masculine. Valentine also looked at her attentively, with that searching, penetrating look one woman invariably casts upon another. As for Zuleika, her eyes literally devoured the peasant girl, flashing with what was not exactly hatred for a rival but rather an instinctive fear and distrust. She was well aware that Giovanni had flirted with this girl, had been enthralled by her physical charms, had almost yielded to her sway, and she felt a peculiar interest in the creature who had temporarily at least stolen the heart of her lover from her.
Annunziata had been greatly benefited by her sojourn in the calm and quiet Refuge. She had by a great and heroic exercise of her strength of mind put aside from her all thoughts of her lamentable history, of her suddenly clouded and terrible past. She had thoroughly abandoned herself to the discipline and duties of the Sisters of the Order of Refuge, and had sought with more or less success even to forget herself. Her unruffled life, passed in the continual doing of good, filled her with peacefulness and satisfaction, and for the first time in a long while she fully realized what it was to be perfectly contented and happy. In consequence her physical condition had improved, promptly responding to her mental ease. She had recovered the beauty she had lost during her confinement in the bandits' hut and her subsequent wanderings as a homeless, starving outcast. Her plumpness had also returned, and her glance had all the brightness and gayety that had formerly distinguished it. Still a general refinement had taken possession of her, and Annunziata was no longer the child of nature she had been when she lived in the romantic cabin in the forest.
Madame de Rancogne was the first to speak.
"Sister Annunziata," she said, "here are his Excellency the Count of Monte-Cristo, Zuleika his daughter, and M. and Mme. Morrel. Allow me to make you acquainted with them and to assure you that they are true friends of mine, firmly to be relied on. They wish to interrogate you in regard to a certain matter. You can answer their questions without fear and without the slightest hesitation. The Count of Monte-Cristo is the very soul of chivalry and honor!"
The Count bowed in acknowledgment of this well-turned speech and, addressing Annunziata, who, notwithstanding Mme. de Rancogne's assurances, began to tremble and feel distressed, said:
"Sister Annunziata, I wish to ask you certain important questions as your Superior has told you. I am pursuing an investigation that promises to be fruitful in the very best results of the highest possible good. Sister Annunziata, I wish your aid in clearing the record of an innocent man, one who has suffered as greatly as you have and for whom you can, therefore, feel pity and sympathy. I allude to the Viscount Giovanni Massetti."
The girl gave a sudden start and turned ghastly pale.
"The Viscount Giovanni Massetti?" repeated she, interrogatively, half doubting whether she could have heard the name aright.
"Yes," said Monte-Cristo, "the Viscount Giovanni Massetti, who has been falsely accused of having abducted you!"