CHAPTER X.
THE COUNTESS OF MONTE-CRISTO.
Rome was agitated by a vague scandal, so vague, in fact, that nobody seemed to know the precise details. It had arisen from a newspaper account, given in the indefinite, unsatisfactory way characteristic of Roman journalism. One of the city journals had published the statement that a young and very handsome peasant girl, living with her father in the country beyond the Trastavere, had recently been abducted, report said, by a youthful member of the Roman aristocracy; that the reckless scion of nobility had courted and won her in the guise of a peasant, had carried her off to a bandit fastness and there had eventually deserted her. No names were given. Inquiry at the office of the journal elicited the fact that the proprietors had undoubted authority for the publication of the statement, but no further information could be gained from them. A few days later, however, the same newspaper gave the further particulars that the nobleman had been assisted in effecting the abduction by a young foreigner residing in Rome, and that the brother of the unfortunate girl had been killed in attempting to rescue her. That completed all the intelligence ever vouchsafed to the public in regard to the mysterious affair, and thereafter the journal maintained an unbroken silence respecting the matter. The rumor ran that its proprietors had been bribed by interested parties to say nothing further, but this rumor could not be traced to any reliable source and was, therefore, by many considered a fabrication. No steps were taken by the authorities in the premises, and it was evident that the affair was to be allowed to die out. Still Roman society was considerably excited, conjectures as to the identity of the guilty party and his accomplice being rife in all the fashionable and aristocratic quarters of the city. These conjectures, however, did not grow to positive statements, though insidious hints were thrown out that those who guessed the Viscount Giovanni Massetti to be the culprit were not far out of the way. Massetti, it was known, had been absent from Rome for several days about the period the abduction was supposed to have taken place, but he did not deign to notice the hints current in regard to himself and no one was hardy enough to question him. Nevertheless some color was given to the rumors concerning him by the fact that, immediately on his return to the city, after the absence above referred to, he became involved in a violent quarrel with a young Frenchman, generally supposed to be Espérance, the son of Monte-Cristo, who at once challenged him to a duel, but the duel was not fought for some reason not made public, the difference between the two fiery youths having been arranged through the mediation of mutual friends. It was observed, however, and widely commented upon that, although the twain had previously been almost inseparable companions, Espérance after this quarrel studiously avoided the Viscount Massetti, refraining from even mentioning his name.
Meanwhile at Civita Vecchia another act in the drama of Annunziata Solara's clouded life had been played. In that city was located a famous asylum for unfortunate women, founded and managed by a French lady of enormous wealth and corresponding benevolence, Madame Helena de Rancogne, the Countess of Monte-Cristo.[6] This lady was untiring in her efforts to reclaim and rehabilitate the fallen of her sex. She was the Superior of the Order of Sisters of Refuge, the members of which were scattered throughout Europe, but made their headquarters at the asylum in Civita Vecchia, where a sufficient number of them constantly aided Madame de Rancogne in carrying out her good and philanthropic work.
The Refuge, as the asylum was called, was a vast edifice of gray stone with a sombre and cloister-like look. Over the huge entrance door on a tablet of polished metal this sentence was incrusted in conspicuous letters of black: "Be Not Led to Consider Any Unworthy!" It was an utterance of the Countess of Monte-Cristo in the past and had been adopted as the guiding rule and maxim of the Order of Sisters of Refuge. The interior of the building in no way corresponded with its gloomy, forbidding outside. Tall, wide windows freely admitted the ardent rays of the glowing Italian sun, flooding the corridors and apartments with cheerful light and warmth. Crimson hangings and magnificently wrought tapestry of fabulous price adorned the walls, while costly and beautiful statues and paintings, the work of old masters and contemporaneous artists, added to the attractiveness of the numerous salons and drawing-rooms. The great refectory and the dormitories possessed charms of their own, bright colors everywhere greeting the eye and nothing being allowed that could inspire or promote melancholy moods or painful thoughts. There was an immense library, to which all the inmates of the Refuge had free access. It was sumptuously furnished, and the floor was covered with a gorgeous Turkey carpet, so thick and soft that footsteps made no sound upon it, while the brilliant figures of tropical flowers profusely studding it gave the impression of eternal summer. Desks abundantly supplied with writing materials, tables loaded with the latest newspapers and periodicals in all the languages of Europe, luxurious sofas and inviting fauteuils allured those succored by the Countess of Monte-Cristo and her vigilant aids. On every side the library was surrounded with book-cases, containing absorbing romances, volumes of travel, the productions of the celebrated poets, histories and essays, with a liberal sprinkling of religious works, mostly non-sectarian and invariably of a consolatory character. In addition elegantly and thoroughly equipped work-rooms were provided, in which those who were so inclined could practice embroidery, sew or manufacture the thousand and one little fancy knick-knacks at which female fingers are so skilful. Nothing, however, was compulsory, the main object being to afford the inmates of the Refuge agreeable occupation, to elevate them and to prevent them from looking back regretfully to the agitated lives they had led and the vices that had held empire over them in the past. Truly a more generous, unselfish lover of her sex than the noble Countess of Monte-Cristo did not exist.
The protégées of the Sisters of the Order of Refuge embraced women of all ages, all nationalities and all conditions in life. They included Parisian grisettes and lorettes, recruited by Nini Moustache in her coquettish apartment of the Chaussée d' Antin, for Nini had proved a most effective missionary; young girls, who had fallen a prey to designing roués and been abandoned to the whirl of that gulf of destruction, the streets of Paris; Spanish senoritas, who had listened too credulously to the false vows of faithless lovers; Italian peasant girls, whose pretty faces and charms of person had been their ruin; unfortunate German, English, Dutch and Scandinavian maidens; and even brands snatched from the burning in Russia, Turkey and Greece. This somewhat diverse community dwelt together in perfect sisterly accord, chastened by their individual misfortunes, encouraged and upheld in the path of reform by the Countess of Monte-Cristo, who was to all the unfortunates as a tender, thoughtful and considerate mother.
One quiet night, just as darkness had settled down over the streets of Civita Vecchia, a timid knock at the entrance door of the Refuge aroused the portress on duty there. Such knocks were often heard and well understood. The portress arose from her bench, partly opened the door and admitted a trembling young girl, whose crouching and shrunken form was clad in a mass of tattered rags. A thin red cloak was thrown over her shoulders, and her pale, emaciated face spoke plainly of poverty, hardship and suffering. Even Giovanni Massetti would have with difficulty recognized in this wretched outcast the once shapely and beautiful flower-girl of the Piazza del Popolo, for the applicant at the Refuge door was no other than the ill-fated Annunziata Solara. Her beauty had faded away like a summer dream, vanished as the perfume from a withered hyacinth. She stood before the portress silently, with clasped hands, the incarnation of misery, distress and desertion.
"What do you require, my poor child?" asked the portress, tenderly and sympathetically.
"Shelter, only shelter!" replied the girl, beseechingly, in a hollow, broken voice, the ghost of her former full and joyous tones.