, anxious face, "I have to-day received some
very startling intelligence."

Zuleika's heart beat wildly at this announcement; she felt convinced
that the very startling intelligence concerned her unfortunate,
long-silent lover.

"Father," said she, in a tremulous voice, "have you received word from
the Viscount Massetti?"

"No, my child," answered Monte-Cristo; "but tidings of the gravest
nature relating to him have been imparted to me."

"Tidings of the gravest nature, father! Is it possible that he is dead?"

As she uttered the last words, the poor girl burst into a flood of
tears.

"No, my child," replied the Count. "Young Massetti is not dead."

"Has he succeeded in clearing himself of that terrible charge?" the
girl asked, trembling with anxiety.

"Alas! no! But he is innocent, Zuleika, as innocent of the dreadful
crime imputed to him as the babe unborn! Of that you can rest assured,
for the proof of his innocence is in my hands!"

Zuleika gave a wild cry of joy and flung her arms about her father's
neck.

"Calm yourself, my child," resumed Monte-Cristo; "all will yet be well.
I start for Rome to-morrow with Ali and two of Giovanni's friends. Be
ready to accompany me!"

Zuleika's ecstasy was almost beyond bounds; but alas! she did not know
that Giovanni's mind had been overthrown by the shame and disgrace that
had been heaped upon him!

CHAPTER XIX.

THE MANIAC OF THE COLOSSEUM.

After quitting their guides at the Colosseum Maximilian and Valentine
advanced towards the centre of the gladiatorial arena where the demented
Giovanni Massetti was standing. He did not notice them, did not seem to
pay even the slightest attention to his surroundings, but kept his eyes
upturned towards heaven, the murmur of bitter malediction constantly
issuing from his lips. As M. and Mme. Morrel approached his words became
clearer and clearer and they had no difficulty whatever in fully
understanding their terrible import. No wonder the guides were
frightened by such a flow of bitter scathing curses!

The afflicted Viscount maintained his motionless, statue-like attitude,
resembling more the weird creation of some sculptor's vivid fancy than a
living, breathing mortal. Valentine was filled with indescribable sorrow
as she gazed at him and realized that this wreck of noble, glorious
manhood was the beloved of Zuleika's heart, the being with whose unhappy
destiny that of Monte-Cristo's daughter was inextricably