During the whole period of the memorable Revolution Zuleika never once saw her brother, though she was burning with a desire to have an interview with him on the subject that had caused the separation between her young Italian lover and herself. Espérance made his home behind the barricades, from the time the struggle began until the people finally triumphed; gun in hand, he fought as heroically as the most devoted workman, fearlessly exposing himself whenever the troops pressed his comrades in arms and always in the thick of the fight. Begrimed with dust and powder, his garments torn by bullets and bayonet thrusts, his hat battered and rent, he encouraged the people by word and example, constantly shouting "Vive la République," and contending for liberty with the bravery of a lion and a persistency that never flagged. He, however, escaped without a single scratch, returning to the paternal mansion utterly worn out, but altogether unhurt, proud of having done his duty as a man and a patriot, and of having sustained the glorious cause for which his father was working heart and soul.
As he was slowly and wearily wending his way homeward, he suddenly encountered M. Dantès and his friend Lamartine in the Rue Richelieu; his gun was on his shoulder, and in his tattered attire, with the dust and powder on his face and hands, he had the exact appearance of an insurrectionist and a barricader. He touched his hat in military fashion to M. Dantès and his illustrious companion, and was about passing on when his father recognized him and, ragged and begrimed as he was, threw his arms enthusiastically about his neck. M. Lamartine watched the Deputy from Marseilles and could not restrain an expression of astonishment at his singular behavior. M. Dantès smiled and, taking Espérance by the hand, said: "M. Lamartine, you will, I know, make every allowance for me when you learn that this young man, who has been fighting behind the barricades with the people, is my son!"
The head of the Provisional Government instantly grew as enthusiastic as M. Dantès himself; he grasped Espérance's free hand and, shaking it with the utmost cordiality, exclaimed: "Your son, M. Dantès! Let me congratulate you! Why he is a perfect hero!"
"I have but followed my father's teachings and done what he would have done had he been my age and unable to serve the great cause of human freedom in a more effective way!"
M. Dantès' eyes sparkled with joy and a faint shade of color appeared upon his pale cheeks.