The Deputy and the Count resumed their seats. The Juge d' Instruction appeared to think for a moment; then he said: "My duty in the premises is plain. No evidence is presented against the prisoners and the official statement and demand of the Procureur de la République, expressed through his worthy and esteemed representative, preclude the necessity of a formal interrogation of the accused. I shall, therefore, discharge them, subject, however, to the control of his Excellency, the Count of Monte-Cristo. Prisoners at the bar," he added, addressing Peppino and Beppo, "I remand you to your cells, your liberation to take place at such time as his Excellency, the Count of Monte-Cristo may determine."
He resumed his seat upon the judicial bench, motioning to the gardien to remove the prisoners.
Ten minutes later Monte-Cristo was in Peppino's cell. The Italian was radiant with delight and very effusive in the expression of his thanks to his powerful and mysterious benefactor.
The Count waved his hand impatiently.
"A truce to thanks," he said. "Time presses, and the sooner you give me the details of the conspiracy against the Viscount Massetti the sooner you and your companion will be free."
Peppino threw himself half down upon his bed and Monte-Cristo seated himself on a rickety stool, his usually impassible countenance plainly showing the absorbing interest he felt in what was to follow.
The Italian cleared his throat and began.
"Signor Count," said he, "in the first place I must tell you that young Massetti has been disowned and disinherited by his proud, stern father, who believes him one of the guiltiest and most depraved scoundrels on earth!"
Monte-Cristo gave a start; his face grew a shade paler than was habitual with him, but he said nothing; he was eagerly awaiting further developments.
"That is not all, however," continued Peppino, after a slight pause to note the effect of his communication upon his auditor, "nor is it the worst! The unfortunate Viscount, upon being ignominiously expelled from the Palazzo Massetti by the old Count's orders, immediately lost his senses; he is now a raving maniac!"
"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Monte-Cristo, springing to his feet and pacing the cell, a prey to intense agitation he did not endeavour to control. "A raving maniac!--Giovanni a raving maniac! Oh! my daughter, my daughter!"
"All I say is the truth," resumed the Italian. "As I hope for Heaven I swear it!"
"But what has become of Massetti? Where is he?" demanded the Count, abruptly pausing in his walk. "Has he been consigned to some asylum?"
"He is an outcast and a wanderer," replied Peppino. "All Rome frowns upon him, avoids him as a pestilence is avoided. When I left Italy he had sought refuge amid the ruins of the Colosseum, where he was the terror alike of visitors and the superstitious guides. I saw him there with my own eyes the day before my departure. He was in rags, carried a tall staff, wore a crown of ivy leaves and spent his time cursing God and man. They say he never leaves the ruins, save to beg a few scraps upon which to subsist, and that he sleeps at night in the depths of a dark vomitarium in company with bats, spiders and other unclean things."