lentine
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!"

The poor girl, stunned by the terrible intelligence of her lover's
condition, stood for an instant with her eyes stonily fixed upon her
father. Tears refused to come to her relief. Then she tottered,
staggered as if she had been suddenly struck with a heavy missile, and
fell fainting into Valentine's outstretched arms. Maximilian assisted
his wife to place her in a fauteuil, after which he seized the bell
cord.

"For what are you going to ring?" asked Monte-Cristo,