Chapter 101 Locusta
|
|||||
VALENTINE
was alone; two other clocks, slower than that of Saint-Philippe du Roule,
struck the hour of midnight from different directions, and excepting the
rumbling of a few carriages all was silent. Then Valentine's attention was
engrossed by the clock in her room, which marked the seconds. She began
counting them, remarking that they were much slower than the beatings of
her heart; and still she doubted,--the inoffensive Valentine could not
imagine that any one should desire her death. Why should they? To what
end? What had she done to excite the malice of an enemy? There was no fear
of her falling asleep. One terrible idea pressed upon her mind,--that some
one existed in the world who had attempted to assassinate her, and who was
about to endeavor to do so again. Supposing this person, wearied at the
inefficacy of the poison, should, as Monte Cristo intimated, have recourse
to steel!--What if the count should have no time to run to her
rescue!--What if her last moments were approaching, and she should never
again see Morrel! When this terrible chain of ideas presented itself,
Valentine was nearly persuaded to ring the bell, and call for help. But
through the door she fancied she saw the luminous eye of the count--that
eye which lived in her memory, and the recollection overwhelmed her with
so much shame that she asked herself whether any amount of gratitude could
ever repay his adventurous and devoted friendship. Twenty
minutes, twenty tedious minutes, passed thus, then ten more, and at last
the clock struck the half-flour. Just then the sound of finger-nails
slightly grating against the door of the library informed Valentine that
the count was still watching, and recommended her to do the same; at the
same time, on the opposite side, that is towards Edward's room, Valentine
fancied that she heard the creaking of the floor; she listened
attentively, holding her breath till she was nearly suffocated; the lock
turned, and the door slowly opened. Valentine had raised herself upon her
elbow, and had scarcely time to throw herself down on the bed and shade
her eyes with her arm; then, trembling, agitated, and her heart beating
with indescribable terror, she awaited the event. Some
one approached the bed and drew back the curtains. Valentine summoned
every effort, and breathed with that regular respiration which announces
tranquil sleep. "Valentine!" said a low voice. Still silent:
Valentine had promised not to awake. Then everything was still, excepting
that Valentine heard the almost noiseless sound of some liquid being
poured into the glass she had just emptied. Then she ventured to open her
eyelids, and glance over her extended arm. She saw a woman in a white
dressing-gown pouring a liquor from a phial into her glass. During this
short time Valentine must have held her breath, or moved in some slight
degree, for the woman, disturbed, stopped and leaned over the bed, in
order the better to ascertain whether Valentine slept--it was Madame de
Villefort. On
recognizing her step-mother, Valentine could not repress a shudder, which
caused a vibration in the bed. Madame de Villefort instantly stepped back
close to the wall, and there, shaded by the bed-curtains, she silently and
attentively watched the slightest movement of Valentine. The latter
recollected the terrible caution of Monte Cristo; she fancied that the
hand not holding the phial clasped a long sharp knife. Then collecting all
her remaining strength, she forced herself to close her eyes; but this
simple operation upon the most delicate organs of our frame, generally so
easy to accomplish, became almost impossible at this moment, so much did
curiosity struggle to retain the eyelid open and learn the truth. Madame
de Villefort, however, reassured by the silence, which was alone disturbed
by the regular breathing of Valentine, again extended her hand, and half
hidden by the curtains succeeded in emptying the contents of the phial
into the glass. Then she retired so gently that Valentine did not know she
had left the room. She only witnessed the withdrawal of the arm--the fair
round arm of a woman but twenty-five years old, and who yet spread death
around her. It
is impossible to describe the sensations experienced by Valentine during
the minute and a half Madame de Villefort remained in the room. The
grating against the library-door aroused the young girl from the stupor in
which she was plunged, and which almost amounted to insensibility. She
raised her head with an effort. The noiseless door again turned on its
hinges, and the Count of Monte Cristo reappeared. "Well," said
he, "do you still doubt?" "Oh,"
murmured the young girl. "Have
you seen?" "Alas!"
"Did
you recognize?" Valentine groaned. "Oh, yes;" she said,
"I saw, but I cannot believe!" "Would
you rather die, then, and cause Maximilian's death?" "Oh,"
repeated the young girl, almost bewildered, "can I not leave the
house?--can I not escape?" "Valentine,
the hand which now threatens you will pursue you everywhere; your servants
will be seduced with gold, and death will be offered to you disguised in
every shape. You will find it in the water you drink from the spring, in
the fruit you pluck from the tree." "But
did you not say that my kind grandfather's precaution had neutralized the
poison?" "Yes,
but not against a strong dose; the poison will be changed, and the
quantity increased." He took the glass and raised it to his lips.
"It is already done," he said; "brucine is no longer
employed, but a simple narcotic! I can recognize the flavor of the alcohol
in which it has been dissolved. If you had taken what Madame de Villefort
has poured into your glass, Valentine--Valentine--you would have been
doomed!" "But,"
exclaimed the young girl, "why am I thus pursued?" "Why?--are
you so kind--so good--so unsuspicious of ill, that you cannot understand,
Valentine?" "No,
I have never injured her." "But
you are rich, Valentine; you have 200,000 livres a year, and you prevent
her son from enjoying these 200,000 livres." "How
so? The fortune is not her gift, but is inherited from my relations."
"Certainly;
and that is why M. and Madame de Saint-Mижran have died; that is why M. Noirtier was sentenced
the day he made you his heir; that is why you, in your turn, are to
die--it is because your father would inherit your property, and your
brother, his only son, succeed to his." "Edward?
Poor child! Are all these crimes committed on his account?" "Ah,
then you at length understand?" "Heaven
grant that this may not be visited upon him!" "Valentine,
you are an angel!" "But
why is my grandfather allowed to live?" "It
was considered, that you dead, the fortune would naturally revert to your
brother, unless he were disinherited; and besides, the crime appearing
useless, it would be folly to commit it." "And
is it possible that this frightful combination of crimes has been invented
by a woman?" "Do
you recollect in the arbor of the H?tel des Postes, at Perugia, seeing a
man in a brown cloak, whom your stepmother was questioning upon aqua
tofana? Well, ever since then, the infernal project has been ripening in
her brain." "Ah,
then, indeed, sir," said the sweet girl, bathed in tears, "I see
that I am condemned to die!" "No,
Valentine, for I have foreseen all their plots; no, your enemy is
conquered since we know her, and you will live, Valentine--live to be
happy yourself, and to confer happiness upon a noble heart; but to insure
this you must rely on me." "Command
me, sir--what am I to do?" "You
must blindly take what I give you." "Alas,
were it only for my own sake, I should prefer to die!" "You
must not confide in any one--not even in your father." "My
father is not engaged in this fearful plot, is he, sir?" asked
Valentine, clasping her hands. "No;
and yet your father, a man accustomed to judicial accusations, ought to
have known that all these deaths have not happened naturally; it is he who
should have watched over you--he should have occupied my place--he should
have emptied that glass--he should have risen against the assassin.
Spectre against spectre!" he murmured in a low voice, as he concluded
his sentence. "Sir,"
said Valentine, "I will do all I can to live. for there are two
beings whose existence depends upon mine--my grandfather and
Maximilian." "I
will watch over them as I have over you." "Well,
sir, do as you will with me;" and then she added, in a low voice,
"oh, heavens, what will befall me?" "Whatever
may happen, Valentine, do not be alarmed; though you suffer; though you
lose sight, hearing, consciousness, fear nothing; though you should awake
and be ignorant where you are, still do not fear; even though you should
find yourself in a sepulchral vault or coffin. Reassure yourself, then,
and say to yourself: 'At this moment, a friend, a father, who lives for my
happiness and that of Maximilian, watches over me!'" "Alas,
alas, what a fearful extremity!" "Valentine,
would you rather denounce your stepmother?" "I
would rather die a hundred times--oh, yes, die!" "No,
you will not die; but will you promise me, whatever happens, that you will
not complain, but hope?" "I
will think of Maximilian!" "You
are my own darling child, Valentine! I alone can save you, and I
will." Valentine in the extremity of her terror joined her
hands,--for she felt that the moment had arrived to ask for courage,--and
began to pray, and while uttering little more than incoherent words, she
forgot that her white shoulders had no other covering than her long hair,
and that the pulsations of her heart could he seen through the lace of her
nightdress. Monte Cristo gently laid his hand on the young girl's arm,
drew the velvet coverlet close to her throat, and said with a paternal
smile,--"My child, believe in my devotion to you as you believe in
the goodness of providence and the love of Maximilian." Then
he drew from his waistcoat-pocket the little emerald box, raised the
golden lid, and took from it a pastille about the size of a pea, which he
placed in her hand. She took it, and looked attentively on the count;
there was an expression on the face of her intrepid protector which
commanded her veneration. She evidently interrogated him by her look.
"Yes," said he. Valentine carried the pastille to her mouth, and
swallowed it. "And now, my dear child, adieu for the present. I will
try and gain a little sleep, for you are saved." "Go,"
said Valentine, "whatever happens, I promise you not to fear." Monte
Cristo for some time kept his eyes fixed on the young girl, who gradually
fell asleep, yielding to the effects of the narcotic the count had given
her. Then he took the glass, emptied three parts of the contents in the
fireplace, that it might be supposed Valentine had taken it, and replaced
it on the table; then he disappeared, after throwing a farewell glance on
Valentine, who slept with the confidence and innocence of an angel. |
|||||
|
©2005 - 2010 ???? . All Rights Reserved.