Just then the deep tones of a bell were heard, and Monte-Cristo arose.

"My child," he solemnly said, "whatever your past has been, you have expiated it a thousand times, and you deserve the love of a humane and honest man."

"Ah, you recall Aslitta to me--where is he?"

Monte-Cristo sorrowfully shook his head.

"Eugenie, the Marquis d'Aslitta was arrested two hours ago."

"Arrested. Oh, my G.o.d! That is worse than death."

"All is not lost yet."

"Where is he?"

"In the citadel."

"Count, rescue him. You are superhuman. But tell me who betrayed him?"

"Benedetto."

Luciola uttered a cry of horror.

"I will do what I can," continued the count, "to rescue him."

"A thousand thanks; I believe you."

The count went to the door and called:

"Spero."

The handsome boy immediately appeared, and looked inquiringly at his father.

"Come with me," said the count. "You are still a child, but from this day forth you enter life. Courage and devotion to a just cause make the weak strong. Should I die before my work is done, then take my place."

A pressure of a silver bell brought Ali to the count.

"Are all here?" he asked.

The Nubian nodded.

"Ali, you know what you have to do. As soon as the slightest traitorous voice is heard, you give the signal."

Ali again nodded; the count shoved the curtain aside and disclosed a secret staircase.

"Spero, conduct La Luciola," he ordered, as he descended the stairs, followed by Spero and the diva.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE CONSPIRATORS

Arriving at the foot of the stairs, Monte-Cristo entered a large hall, in which several hundred men were a.s.sembled. They all rose up from their seats, and, taking off their hats, greeted the count with loud cries of:

"Long live Italy!"

Monte-Cristo approached a white-haired old man, the Marquis of Sante-Croce, and asked him to preside over the a.s.sembly. Sante-Croce nodded, and began his address:

"Friends and patriots," he said, "the long-wished-for day has come. Are you ready to defend the flag?"

"So help us G.o.d! Out with the foreigners!" was shouted from all sides.

"Good! Now listen to what our n.o.ble friend, the Count of Monte-Cristo, has to tell us!"

The marquis took his seat, and the count, unrolling a paper, said in an earnest voice:

"I can bring you a piece of news which Marshal Radetzky has just received; a revolution has broken out in Vienna, and at this very hour the viceroy is leaving Milan."

A murmur of astonishment ran through the a.s.sembly.

"My couriers," continued the count, "were quicker than the emperor's, and in consequence of that I am better informed than the officials. The emperor has bowed to the necessity of the situation, and made important concessions--"

"No concessions!" said a voice; "we want freedom!"

"Patience," said Monte-Cristo. "The emperor has repealed the censorship; the new press law is very liberal, and the representatives of the German and Lombard-Venetian provinces have been convoked."

The astonishment was now general. Loud cries of "Impossible!

impossible!" were heard.

"And when will the convocation take place?" asked Sante-Croce.

"Unfortunately not so soon--on the 3d of July," said the count, sorrowfully.

Angry murmurs arose.

"They wish to mock us," said a young man. "Radetzky's minions have murdered my brother; I demand revenge!"

"My mother was wounded at Corsa," said a second. "No compromises: war!"

"Yes, war to the knife!" shouted the whole a.s.sembly.

"One moment!" exclaimed Monte-Cristo, in a tone of command. "I know how angry you all are, and yet counsel you to reflect. A nation which is eager for independence, is strong and powerful, but your oppressors are as numerous as sands in the sea. You will conquer, Milan will be free; but when you have spilled your blood, and piled your bodies up like a wall, the allies upon whom you count will desert you. You will fall again into the hands of the enemy, and the heavy yoke will become heavier. Charles Albert, the king of Sardinia, will betray you as soon as his ends have been served. Do you still desire to carry out your ideas?"

Monte-Cristo's words sounded prophetic. The patriots could not dissimulate the impression they made. But their opinions did not change.