ards me!"

Giovanni, hardly less affected than the girl who supposed herself his
victim, advanced to her and took her hand. She did not refuse to let him
hold it in his, but studiously refrained from looking him in the face.

"Annunziata," said Massetti, humbly, "I do not deny that my conduct
towards you in the past was altogether reprehensible and unpardonable. I
do not deny that circumstances so shaped themselves that I was made to
seem a wretched, despicable criminal in your eyes; but, Annunziata, I
stopped short of actual guilt, and as Heaven is my witness I had no hand
either in your abduction or the horrible events that accompanied and
followed it! This I swear, and this is God's truth!"

Annunziata lifted her eyes and gave him a searching glance.

"I understand your anxiety to clear yourself," she said, slowly. "With a
stain on your name you cannot marry the Count of Monte-Cristo's
beautiful daughter!"

It was a keen, cutting thrust and made Giovanni wince, but he recovered
himself instantly.

"I am anxious to clear my name that I may wed Zuleika," he replied,
steadily and firmly, "but I am also anxious because I am innocent of all
criminal action--innocent of your abduction, of your dishonor and of
your brother's blood! Annunziata, do you still decline to believe my
solemn assertions?"

"I would gladly believe them if I could," responded the girl; "but,
alas! I cannot! I saw your face when your mask fell from it that
dreadful night in the forest! I heard the tones of your voice afterwards
in the hut guarded by the bandits! What more convincing evidence could I
require?"

"You were mistaken, Annunziata, you were fearfully mistaken!" cried the
young Italian, overwhelming despair seizing upon him and crushing the
hope in his heart. He could not convince the former flower-girl, he
could not even shake her convictions! He had failed with her as
Monte-Cristo had previously failed at the Refuge in Civita Vecchia! Up
to this time he had continued to hold Annunziata's hand, but now he
dropped it as if it had been some venomous serpent.

Annunziata was deeply affected, but her emotion arose from an altogether
different cause. She felt her shame and disgrace and was, besides,
horrified at the idea that she had once hung upon the honeyed words of
such a scoundrel as in her view the Viscount Massetti had proved to be.

Monte-Cristo was now thoroughly satisfied that Giovanni could effect
nothing with Annunziata an