The Son of Monte-Cristo Volume I Part 37

At this moment Bertuccio entered the hall.

"Well?" asked the count.

"Count, one of our emissaries has penetrated to the citadel. The Marquis Aslitta is no longer there!"

"What can that mean? Had he escaped he would have looked for us here,"

exclaimed the count uneasily.

"The man could learn nothing further," said Bertuccio, sadly; "but he was informed that some one else was found in the marquis's cell."

"Some one else? Who?"

"You know him. In Paris he called himself Major Cavalcanti, and here--"

"What about this subst.i.tute?" eagerly interrupted the count.

"He was sentenced to death; whether the sentence had been already executed our emissary could not ascertain."

"Bertuccio," said the count anxiously, "if Aslitta--"

"Aslitta is dead!" cried Luciola, who had entered unperceived and sank to her knees sobbing.

"Who dares to allege that?" exclaimed the count, turning pale.

"Step to the window," stammered Luciola.

The count did so and staggered back, for the sight he saw confirmed the poor girl's words; four men, with uncovered heads, carried a bier on which lay a motionless body. It was the Marquis Aslitta, and Monte-Cristo's heart swelled as he recognized him.

"How could this calamity have happened?" whispered Spero, clinging anxiously to Luciola.

Bertuccio, in the meantime, had run down into the street to direct the carriers. He now returned and tremblingly said:

"A quarter of an hour ago our men found the body in the moat of the fortifications; how Aslitta got there is a riddle."

Loud cries were heard from the street.

"Revenge on the murderers! Death to the miserable cowards."

A crowd numbered by hundreds gathered around the bier, and the carriers had trouble to reach the palace gate.

Luciola had dragged herself with difficulty to the staircase, but there she swooned away, and while Spero bedewed her beautiful pale face with his tears, he appealingly whispered to his father:

"Papa, you have already aided so many people, aid her too!"

Monte-Cristo started. He had promised Luciola to save Aslitta, and now--

The next moment he was standing beside the bier; his gaze rested searchingly, with unspeakable terror, on the pale features of the drowned man, and with trembling hands he bared the bosom and placed his ear to Aslitta's breast.

At this instant the beating of drums was heard and a Croatian battalion turned the corner of the street.

"Men," exclaimed Monte-Cristo, "carry the Marquis Aslitta into the Vidiserti palace, and if you love your leader, who has staked his life for you, see to it that no soldier enters the building! Turn the palace into a bulwark against which the soldiers smash their skulls, and who knows whether Italy and Aslitta may not, together, become resurrected?"

Luciola had heard the prophetic words; she rose up, and, approaching the bier, exclaimed enthusiastically:

"You hear his words; he always keeps what he promises. To arms, friends!

Long live Italy and Liberty."

A shout of joy answered Luciola. The next instant the street was blocked by turned wagons, logs and other obstacles, the pavement was torn up, and as the Croatians approached they found a raging mult.i.tude ready for defence. At a first-story window of the Palace Vidiserti Luciola stood and encouraged the patriots. She had seized a flag, and, unmindful of the bullets which whistled around her, waved the tricolor in the air.

The spark had dropped into the powder barrel; from all sides the patriots rallied around the national standard, and, amid the ringing of the alarm bells, the insurrection kept growing in dimensions.

Luciola had long ago left her place at the window and stood on a barricade, waving her flag and spurring on the combatants. The Croatians retreated after about an hour. Surrounded on all sides by the Italians, they sought safety in flight, and the patriots followed them with shouts of joy.

Luciola now left the barricade, and, hastening into the palace, sank on her knees beside the bier, on which Aslitta still lay extended motionless. She raised her clasped hands to Monte-Cristo, who was busying himself about the lifeless man, and imploringly exclaimed:

"Count, I have kept my word--the tricolor waves in freedom in Milan; restore Giorgio to me."

The count did not reply; he held in his hand a small vial containing a dark-red liquid, and slowly he dropped single drops on Aslitta's compressed lips.

At this instant Sante-Croce rushed into the apartment and excitedly exclaimed:

"Things are bad, count. Radetzky has retreated with his troops into the citadel and begins to bombard the city! You have promised to a.s.sist us with act and counsel, and, instead of redeeming your word, you are wasting the time in useless revivification experiments. Let the dead alone and take care of the living."

Monte-Cristo's flas.h.i.+ng eyes fixed themselves on the old patriot, and with ringing tones he retorted:

"Marquis, I have as yet always kept my word."

"But when? It may soon be too late. We are lacking in arms and ammunition, and the superiority of numbers will crush us if we are defenceless."

"Ali," ordered the count.

The Nubian appeared and glanced inquiringly at his master.

"You have the key of the vault which contains the arms and ammunition?"

Ali nodded.

"Go and show the Marquis of Sante-Croce the way to the vaults. Arm the patriots, marquis, and believe my words, before night Radetzky will give up the fight and to-morrow will leave Milan. Stop, one instant yet; I told the patriots that the Marquis Aslitta would lead them. I have kept my word. See for yourself. Aslitta opens his eyes; he lives."

The dark eyelids really opened, and with a dreamy look Aslitta surveyed the people who surrounded him.

"Thanks be to G.o.d, he lives!" exclaimed Luciola, gleefully.

"Calm yourself, Eugenie," said the Count. "Aslitta must be spared for the present any excitement! Leave him to me, he will soon recover."

"Oh, you have performed a miracle," said Luciola, enthusiastically.