The morning following the events detailed in the last chapter, as Espérance was in his dressing-room preparing to take a short stroll through Paris, Ali knocked at the door and signified that M. Dantès wished to see him at once in the library. As such a summons was something unusual, the young man immediately concluded that Zuleika had been in consultation with her father and that he would now have to submit to a close and rigid examination; he had expected such an examination, but, nevertheless, the summons filled him with dismay and he grew pale as wax, his limbs trembling beneath him and his hands working nervously; however, he braced up as well as he could, and with as firm a step as it was possible for him to assume walked toward the library. On the threshold he paused, and his courage so utterly forsook him that he was tempted to take refuge in flight, but the thought flashed through his mind that this would be cowardly, and, making a supreme effort to control himself, he entered his father's presence.
M. Dantès, who was seated at his writing-table examining a curious manuscript written in Arabic characters, looked up as he came in and fixed his eyes searchingly upon his son's countenance, noting its extreme pallor and remarking with manifest uneasiness the difficulty Espérance experienced in maintaining a firm demeanor. Motioning the young man to a seat, he said: "My son, I have sent for you on a matter of the utmost importance, and I sincerely hope you will see fit to tell me in all frankness whatever you may know in regard to it."
Espérance partially closed his eyes as if suffering intensely, bringing his teeth firmly together and compressing his lips. As he did not speak, M. Dantès continued: "I have every reason to believe that the revelation I am about to ask of you will be exceedingly painful for you to make, but you must consider that your sister's happiness is deeply concerned and that, for that reason, no matter what may be your motives, you have not the right to maintain silence."
"I know what you mean, father," replied Espérance in an unsteady voice, "but, notwithstanding the pain it gives me to do so, I must ask you, nay, entreat you not to question me, for I cannot answer you!"
M. Dantès cast upon his son a glance that seemed to pierce him through and through; the young man quailed beneath it and again partially closed his eyes, while a faint blue shade was mixed with the waxen pallor of his visage. The Deputy, though he had made a profound and exhaustive study of men and their varied motives, though he was a skilled anatomist of the human heart and a ready reader of the human countenance, acknowledged to himself that this time he was completely baffled. Was it fear or guilt that Espérance exhibited? He could not tell; but it was abundantly evident that the young man was not acting a part, that he keenly felt the suspicions to which he was exposing himself by his inexplicable conduct. At length M. Dantès said, in a mild but determined tone: "Espérance, my son, you can, at least, enlighten me upon a few points, and I request, nay, I command you to do so. Are you bound by oath to preserve silence concerning this matter?"