oxicate him, for a
moment as the other for life. For Monte-Cristo's daughter his feeling
was love, for the fascinating flower-girl of the Piazza del Popolo it
was a passion to be sated.

After a few more words to his sister, the peasant returned to the young
men, aiding Esperance to transport Giovanni into the cabin. The interior
of this humble abode was as neat and picturesque as the exterior. The
room they entered was small and cheaply furnished, but feminine taste
was everywhere displayed. A single candle was the only light, but the
scanty illumination sufficed to show the refining touches of a woman's
hand. In one corner stood a bed, the covers of which were turned down,
and upon which was impressed the shape of its late occupant. At the head
of the bed a brass crucifix was suspended from the wall, while over the
back of a chair hung articles of a woman's apparel. Giovanni could not
doubt that he was in Annunziata's chamber, and that the imprint on the
bed was hers. He felt a thrill of joy at the idea that he was to occupy
the bewitching flower-girl's couch, to occupy, perhaps, the very place
where she had lain but a short time before.

Annunziata, who had thrown a cloak over her shoulders and night clothes,
but whose feet were still bare, had accompanied her brother and his
companions to the apartment. She eyed the strangers timidly, but
curiously, though it was quite plain she failed to penetrate their
disguise. With deft hands she rearranged the bed and removed her
garments from the chair. Then she retired to another room, and the
wounded Viscount was aided to undress and assisted into the couch by the
peasant and Esperance, where he eventually fell asleep in a delirium of
bliss, after his hurt had been properly cared for.

Esperance was duly bestowed for the night, and soon unbroken silence
brooded over the solitary cabin in the forest.

Thus was enacted the initial scene of a drama that was destined to be
fruitful in disastrous results, results that clouded more than one happy
life.

CHAPTER VIII.

A SYLVAN IDYL.

In the morning the Viscount Massetti's arm was found to be so much
swollen and his wound so painful that it was deemed advisable to send
for a physician, who resided in a neighboring hamlet not more than a
mile distant from the cabin of the Solaras. The man of medicine was soon
at Giovanni's bedside. After examining and dressing his hurt, he
declared that the patient ought not to be m