The raid on the bandits

When Ali reached the Hotel de France and dragged himself to his master’s apartment, which was not until quite late in the afternoon, his condition was truly deplorable. Footsore and ready to drop from extreme fatigue, he staggered like a drunken man. He was thickly covered with dust and profuse perspiration made his dark skin glisten. The faithful mute at once threw himself at the Count’s feet, embracing his knees and in his marvellous pantomime eloquently entreating pardon.

Monte-Cristo, who was suffering torment because of his beloved daughter’s prolonged absence, instantly divined that some terrible accident had befallen her and grew almost wild with grief and apprehension. Raising Ali up, he said to him in a broken, anxious voice:

“Tell me what has occurred without circumlocution or delay, and tell me all!”

The Nubian made a profound salaam in token of submission and obedience. Then he proceeded, in his own peculiar mode of narrating events with which Monte-Cristo was so thoroughly familiar and which in this instance he translated only too readily and unerringly, to recount the particulars of the fatal drive into the outskirts of the city and of the capture of Zuleika, Peppino and the equipage by the brigands.

Monte-Cristo sat for an instant after he had concluded like one stupefied, so utterly overwhelmed was he by the unexpected and distracting intelligence. Then he sprang to his feet and began pacing the room, muttering as he walked:

“So the wretches have seized my daughter and servant by way of reprisals and intend to hold them as hostages for the safety of Luigi Vampa! What is to be done? Let me think, let me think!”

He placed his hand to his forehead and accelerated his step, passing back and forth with such feverish rapidity that even Ali, impassible as he was by nature, showed alarm, dreading the effect of all this fearful and exhausting excitement upon his adored master to save whom from the slightest trouble or grief he would have freely and unhesitatingly given his life. Monte-Cristo continued to mutter:

“Vampa is a prisoner, closely confined in a dungeon of the Castle of St. Angelo. He is to be tried for his many crimes, among which I have caused to be included the abduction of Annunziata Solara and his attempt to blacken the fair fame of the Viscount Massetti. His conviction and punishment as a bandit may be accepted as certain, whatever may be the fate of the other counts in the black indictment against him, for hosts of those whom he has robbed and maltreated are to testify, and the Roman authorities have for some reason suddenly become his deadly, implacable foes; they will show him no mercy! But the rest of the infamous band, what is to be done with them? Nothing, absolutely nothing, so far as I have been able to learn! Why? Possibly because the police fear to attack the brigands in their stronghold! But I will change this item of the programme yes, I will change it! I will at once to Cardinal Monti, complain that my daughter has been seized by the bandits and offer with the aid of Captain Morrel to lead a detachment of soldiery against them. Animated by Maximilian and myself, the military will show courage for once. The result cannot be doubtful. We shall capture the whole band, together with their famous fastness, and rescue Zuleika. Peppino, too, shall be delivered. I will not take Massetti with me no, he is too rash and might imperil the success of the undertaking no, I will not take him, I will not even inform him of what I propose doing. The Cardinal will scarcely venture to refuse me. Should he hesitate, however, I will shame him into consenting, I will threaten him with invoking the aid of the French minister! No, he will not refuse me! Now for the trial of my power! Oh! Zuleika, my darling child, I will save you, I will save you!”

Hastily putting on his hat and throwing a light cloak about him, the Count of Monte-Cristo departed on his mission, a mission certainly altogether characteristic of the marvellous man.

Cardinal Monti received him cordially, heard his complaint and, after demurring slightly, accepted his offer to lead the soldiers against the redoubtable brigands, agreeing to place two hundred of the Swiss Guard properly officered and equipped at the disposal of himself and Captain Morrel. It was decided that the expedition should start from the Castle of St. Angelo at ten o’clock that night and should be guided by a trusty peasant, then in the Cardinal’s service, who professed to know the exact location of the bandits’ retreat and the safest route to it.

These preliminaries satisfactorily settled, Monte-Cristo, his heart overflowing with joy, immediately returned to the Hotel de France to notify M. Morrel and to make his preparations for the coming campaign. Upon being informed of Zuleika’s seizure by the outlaws and of the part her father wished him to take in her deliverance, Maximilian instantly consented, only too happy to have such a signal opportunity of serving his benefactor. Zuleika’s misfortune, however, distressed him greatly.

“Does Valentine know of your daughter’s capture?” he asked of the Count.

“No,” answered Monte-Cristo, “and I must ask you not to tell her until after the result of the expedition is known. I wish to keep the whole matter a close secret lest young Massetti should hear of it and mar our plans by his usual hot-headedness. With this view I have already instructed Ali, the only person save yourself in the Hotel de France who is aware of the terrible blow that has fallen upon me, to refrain from communicating the intelligence to any one. It is better thus, for the brigands undoubtedly have spies in Rome at this time and the utmost caution is advisable.”

M. Morrel readily assented to the wisdom of the Count’s policy of complete silence, and the twain separated to quietly prepare for the night’s perilous and exciting adventure.

At half-past nine o’clock Monte-Cristo and Maximilian entered the court-yard of the grim Castle of St. Angelo, where the detachment of the Swiss Guard was already drawn up under arms awaiting orders. The Count wore a half military dress and had a sword at his side, while his friend was clad in the full uniform of a Captain in the Army of France and similarly provided with the regulation weapon. Both he and Monte-Cristo had a couple of pistols in their belts, freshly and carefully loaded.

The Captain of the Swiss Guard received them and presented the peasant whom Cardinal Monti had sent to act as guide. Then he turned over the command of his men to Captain Morrel, who briefly addressed them in French, a language with which they were well acquainted, informing them that he and his Excellency, the Count of Monte-Cristo, relied on every man to do his duty in suppressing the banditti and rescuing from their rude clutches a beautiful young French girl, no other than the Count’s own daughter.

At the close of this address the soldiers saluted, the only way in which the military regulations permitted them to respond.

Monte-Cristo and M. Morrel then had a brief conference with the peasant guide, who seemed very intelligent and thoroughly posted as to the bandits and their stronghold. The information he gave was in every respect satisfactory and it was abundantly plain that the man could be implicitly relied upon.

Everything was now in readiness and, as the hour of ten was sounded by the clock of the Castle of St. Angelo, the troops headed by Captain Morrel and the Count filed out of the court-yard and began their march. When the open country was reached the guide took up a position a trifle in advance of the detachment and led the way. Complete silence was maintained and the utmost care taken to muffle the tramp of the soldiers’ feet.

After marching until nearly midnight, the guide in a low, cautious whisper informed the Count and Maximilian that the bandits’ fastness was close at hand. A brief halt for rest and recuperation was immediately ordered; then the advance was resumed, followed by a struggle with the brigands’ sentinel, who was seized and overpowered before he could give even the slightest alarm.

“Now, men,” said Captain Morrel, in a firm, commanding tone, “for a prompt dash and we shall trap all the wolves in their subterranean den!”

The cave had two entrances. The Count at the head of half the troops speedily possessed himself of one and Maximilian with the rest of the detachment promptly seized the other.

So far the success of the expedition had been complete. The outlaws were caged and could not escape, but, nevertheless, it was probable that they would make a desperate and bloody resistance. Simultaneously Monte-Cristo and Captain Morrel penetrated the gloomy depths with their men and a dozen torches quickly lighted illuminated the cavern as if by magic. Instantly there arose a chorus of wild shouts uttered by the surprised bandits, who, armed to the teeth, came thronging from every direction. A fierce hand to hand battle ensued, the cavern echoing with the rattle of musketry, the reports of pistols and the clash of swords.

As had been anticipated the brigands contended desperately and with the utmost fury. They were brave, hardy wretches, and though hemmed in on all sides evidently hoped to triumph over the invaders of their stronghold and drive them out in disorder and terror. Their former experience with the Swiss Guard and the police warranted them in entertaining this hope, but on the present occasion they reckoned without their host, for the soldiers had never before had such intrepid, determined and able leaders.

The battle lasted for over an hour and it was not until many had been killed and wounded on both sides that the outlaws began to show signs of wavering. Monte-Cristo and Captain Morrel performed prodigies of valor, animating and encouraging their troops both by word and example. Finally the outlaws were completely subdued, such of them as had not been slain having been made prisoners. The Count escaped without a scratch, but Maximilian was slightly wounded in the left hand.

When the firing and the clash, of swords had ceased, Captain Morrel gave the order to search the cave for Zuleika and Peppino, first placing sentinels at the entrances to guard against surprise and prevent the escape of any of the bandits who amid the confusion might slip from their captors.

“Where are the cells?” asked Monte-Cristo of the peasant guide, who had manfully borne his part in the struggle.

“Follow me,” answered the man. “I will take you to them.”

Monte-Cristo now that the excitement of the fray had left him was filled with anxiety for his daughter. What had happened to her since she had been a captive in the bandits’ den? Had her honor been respected as well as her life? His suspense was the most terrible torture possible to conceive. He could scarcely restrain himself until he should learn the truth, be it fatal or favorable. Maximilian was almost equally agitated, but managed to maintain a comparatively calm exterior that he might the better support and cheer his friend in this his hour of bitter need.

The peasant, holding a torch above his head, conducted them into a dark, damp corridor, several soldiers following in charge of a lieutenant. The party had not gone many steps when a man’s cries became audible, proceeding from a cell near at hand. The door of this cell was fastened only by a bar of iron, to remove which required but an instant, when it was discovered that the cries came from Peppino, who having heard the noise of the conflict and concluded that relief was near had at once commenced to shout that he might disclose his whereabouts to the invaders. The ex-bandit was set at liberty and the search was continued.

Presently a low moan struck the Count’s attentive ear.

“What was that?” he asked, with a start.

“A moan that was no doubt uttered by your daughter!” answered the guide.

“My daughter!” cried the Count. “Then, thank God, she is alive!”

They reached another cell, the door of which, like that of Peppino’s, was fastened by a bar. Within the cell the low moaning continued. Monte-Cristo seized the bar, whirled it aside and flung open the door; then he sprang into the cell, calling wildly on his daughter.

Zuleika was lying in a corner upon a heap of straw and moaning piteously. At the sound of her father’s voice, however, she was on her feet in an instant and cast herself rapturously into his arms.

“Are you safe, my darling child?” said the Count, covering her face with kisses. “Did the bandits respect you?”

“I am safe, dear father,” answered Zuleika, “safe and uninjured. The bandits frightened me and the solitude and terrors of this dark, dismal dungeon have been fearful to endure. But all my troubles are over now that you are here!”

The Count then directed the guide to conduct them to the bandits’ stables and there his horses and barouche were found. The equipage was taken to the open air, and after placing his daughter in the vehicle the Count left her in charge of Peppino and several soldiers of the Swiss Guard, returning to the cavern to bring the work of the expedition to a close.

When Monte-Cristo reached the point where the Swiss Guard and their prisoners were assembled, he found Captain Morrel superintending the placing of an aged bandit upon an improvised stretcher.

“During your absence, Count,” said he, his face radiant with joy, “we made the most important capture of the night! This old man is Pasquale Solara!”

“Where did you find him?” asked the Count.

“In a large cell used by the outlaws as an infirmary. He says he is mortally wounded and slowly dying, that his wound was inflicted by a Roman nobleman who met him upon the highway a very likely story, truly!”

“It is a fact,” answered Monte-Cristo. “The Roman nobleman who wounded him was Giovanni Massetti! But, thank God, he is still alive and will probably last until Vampa’s trial at which I may be able to force him to speak out. Have him carefully attended to, Maximilian!”

The captives were formed in line and, none being too much disabled to walk, save old Solara who was borne along on his stretcher, they were marched to Rome surrounded by the triumphant Swiss Guard. Monte-Cristo, Maximilian and Zuleika followed in the Count’s barouche, Peppino officiating as coachman.