Monte-Cristo smiled.
"You need no pardon from me," he said, gently, much affected by this proof of devotion to his daughter and through her to him; "on the contrary you have my gratitude as well as Zuleika's! But what success have you met with?"
"Alas! none of any moment as yet," answered M. Morrel, sadly.
"Such a result was to be expected," returned the Count, gravely. "You had no evidence to establish Giovanni's innocence and it was impossible for you to obtain any. I have the evidence, conclusive evidence! When the proper moment arrives I will produce it, remove the stain from his name and confound his enemies!"
"Thank God!" simultaneously exclaimed M. and Mme. Morrel, Valentine taking Zuleika in her arms, kissing her and clasping her to her bosom.
"But," continued Monte-Cristo, glancing anxiously at his daughter, "the unfortunate young man must first be taken in hand and cured!"
Maximilian and Valentine again exchanged glances. They felt relieved. The Count knew all. He was making the disclosure gradually, considerately. They silently waited for further developments, holding their breath. Valentine's heart beat almost audibly. Zuleika started from her arms and gazed at her father with anxious, astonished eyes.
"Cured?" she repeated, in a tremulous voice. "Is Giovanni ill?"
"He is, my child," answered the Count.
What would he say next? How much was he going to disclose? Surely not the whole of the dreadful truth! These thoughts shot like lightning through the minds of M. and Mme. Morrel. Maximilian stood like a statue, motionless, pale, gazing upon Monte-Cristo as a condemned criminal gazes upon his executioner. Valentine seized her husband's hand and held it like a vise.
Zuleika stared at the Morrels; she could not understand their action, their breathless interest. Then her glance reverted to her father and, for the first time, she saw that, notwithstanding his apparent calmness, he, too, was under the dominion of some intense emotion.
"Father!" she cried, clasping her hands appealingly, "what do you mean? You say that Giovanni is ill, but your look expresses more than your words! With what fearful malady has he been stricken? Tell me, I conjure you! I will be strong--I will bear it!"
"My child," said the Count, in a solemn tone, "then summon all your courage, all your firmness to your aid! Young Massetti, overwhelmed by his troubles, has fallen a prey to a mental disease!"
"Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" groaned Zuleika, in anguish, "do you mean to say that he has lost his mind, that he is a lunatic?"
"Such, alas! is the case! But, my daughter, trust in me! I will find him and science will effect his cure!"