Chapter 80 The Accusation
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"Say,
rather, crime!" replied the doctor. "M.
d'Avrigny," cried Villefort, "I cannot tell you all I feel at
this moment,--terror, grief, madness." "Yes,"
said M. d'Avrigny, with an imposing calmness, "but I think it is now
time to act. I think it is time to stop this torrent of mortality. I can
no longer bear to be in possession of these secrets without the hope of
seeing the victims and society generally revenged." Villefort cast a
gloomy look around him. "In my house," murmured he, "in my
house!" "Come,
magistrate," said M. d'Avrigny, "show yourself a man; as an
interpreter of the law, do honor to your profession by sacrificing your
selfish interests to it." "You
make me shudder, doctor. Do you talk of a sacrifice?" "I
do." "Do
you then suspect any one?" "I
suspect no one; death raps at your door--it enters--it goes, not
blindfolded, but circumspectly, from room to room. Well, I follow its
course, I track its passage; I adopt the wisdom of the ancients, and feel
my way, for my friendship for your family and my respect for you are as a
twofold bandage over my eyes; well"-- "Oh,
speak, speak, doctor; I shall have courage." "Well,
sir, you have in your establishment, or in your family, perhaps, one of
the frightful monstrosities of which each century produces only one.
Locusta and Agrippina, living at the same time, were an exception, and
proved the determination of providence to effect the entire ruin of the
Roman empire, sullied by so many crimes. Brunehilde and Frижdижgonde
were the results of the painful struggle of civilization in its infancy,
when man was learning to control mind, were it even by an emissary from
the realms of darkness. All these women had been, or were, beautiful. The
same flower of innocence had flourished, or was still flourishing, on
their brow, that is seen on the brow of the culprit in your house."
Villefort shrieked, clasped his hands, and looked at the doctor with a
supplicating air. But the latter went on without pity:-- "'Seek
whom the crime will profit,' says an axiom of jurisprudence." "Doctor,"
cried Villefort, "alas, doctor, how often has man's justice been
deceived by those fatal words. I know not why, but I feel that this
crime"-- "You
acknowledge, then, the existence of the crime?" "Yes,
I see too plainly that it does exist. But it seems that it is intended to
affect me personally. I fear an attack myself, after all these
disasters." "Oh,
man," murmured d'Avrigny, "the most selfish of all animals, the
most personal of all creatures, who believes the earth turns, the sun
shines, and death strikes for him alone,--an ant cursing God from the top
of a blade of grass! And have those who have lost their lives lost
nothing?--M. de Saint-Mижran, Madame de Saint-Mижran, M. Noirtier"-- "How?
M. Noirtier?" "Yes;
think you it was the poor servant's life was coveted? No, no; like
Shakespeare's 'Polonius,' he died for another. It was Noirtier the
lemonade was intended for--it is Noirtier, logically speaking, who drank
it. The other drank it only by accident, and, although Barrois is dead, it
was Noirtier whose death was wished for." "But
why did it not kill my father?" "I
told you one evening in the garden after Madame de Saint-Mижran's death--because his system
is accustomed to that very poison, and the dose was trifling to him, which
would be fatal to another; because no one knows, not even the assassin,
that, for the last twelve months, I have given M. Noirtier brucine for his
paralytic affection, while the assassin is not ignorant, for he has proved
that brucine is a violent poison." "Oh,
have pity--have pity!" murmured Villefort, wringing his hands. "Follow
the culprit's steps; he first kills M. de Saint-Mижran"-- "O
doctor!" "I
would swear to it; what I heard of his symptoms agrees too well with what
I have seen in the other cases." Villefort ceased to contend; he only
groaned. "He first kills M. de Saint-Mижran," repeated the doctor, "then Madame de
Saint-Mижran,--a
double fortune to inherit." Villefort wiped the perspiration from his
forehead. "Listen attentively." "Alas,"
stammered Villefort, "I do not lose a single word." "M.
Noirtier," resumed M. d'Avrigny in the same pitiless tone,--"M.
Noirtier had once made a will against you--against your family--in favor
of the poor, in fact; M. Noirtier is spared, because nothing is expected
from him. But he has no sooner destroyed his first will and made a second,
than, for fear he should make a third, he is struck down. The will was
made the day before yesterday, I believe; you see there has been no time
lost." "Oh,
mercy, M. d'Avrigny!" "No
mercy, sir! The physician has a sacred mission on earth; and to fulfil it
he begins at the source of life, and goes down to the mysterious darkness
of the tomb. When crime has been committed, and God, doubtless in anger,
turns away his face, it is for the physician to bring the culprit to
justice." "Have
mercy on my child, sir," murmured Villefort. "You
see it is yourself who have first named her--you, her father." "Have
pity on Valentine! Listen--it is impossible! I would as willingly accuse
myself! Valentine, whose heart is pure as a diamond or a lily." "No
pity, procureur; the crime is fragrant. Mademoiselle herself packed all
the medicines which were sent to M. de Saint-Mижran; and M. de Saint-Mижran is dead. Mademoiselle de
Villefort prepared all the cooling draughts which Madame de Saint-Mижran took, and Madame de Saint-Mижran is dead. Mademoiselle de
Villefort took from the hands of Barrois, who was sent out, the lemonade
which M. Noirtier had every morning, and he has escaped by a miracle.
Mademoiselle de Villefort is the culprit--she is the poisoner! To you, as
the king's attorney, I denounce Mademoiselle de Villefort, do your
duty." "Doctor,
I resist no longer--I can no longer defend myself--I believe you; but, for
pity's sake, spare my life, my honor!" "M.
de Villefort," replied the doctor, with increased vehemence,
"there are occasions when I dispense with all foolish human
circumspection. If your daughter had committed only one crime, and I saw
her meditating another, I would say 'Warn her, punish her, let her pass
the remainder of her life in a convent, weeping and praying.' If she had
committed two crimes, I would say, 'Here, M. de Villefort, is a poison
that the prisoner is not acquainted with,--one that has no known antidote,
quick as thought, rapid as lightning, mortal as the thunderbolt; give her
that poison, recommending her soul to God, and save your honor and your
life, for it is yours she aims at; and I can picture her approaching your
pillow with her hypocritical smiles and her sweet exhortations. Woe to
you, M. de Villefort, if you do not strike first!' This is what I would
say had she only killed two persons but she has seen three deaths,--has
contemplated three murdered persons,--has knelt by three corpses! To the
scaffold with the poisoner--to the scaffold! Do you talk of your honor? Do
what I tell you, and immortality awaits you!" Villefort
fell on his knees. "Listen," said he; "I have not the
strength of mind you have, or rather that which you would not have, if
instead of my daughter Valentine your daughter Madeleine were
concerned." The doctor turned pale. "Doctor, every son of woman
is born to suffer and to die; I am content to suffer and to await
death." "Beware,"
said M. d'Avrigny, "it may come slowly; you will see it approach
after having struck your father, your wife, perhaps your son." Villefort,
suffocating, pressed the doctor's arm. "Listen," cried he;
"pity me--help me! No, my daughter is not guilty. If you drag us both
before a tribunal I will still say, 'No, my daughter is not guilty;--there
is no crime in my house. I will not acknowledge a crime in my house; for
when crime enters a dwelling, it is like death--it does not come alone.'
Listen. What does it signify to you if I am murdered? Are you my friend?
Are you a man? Have you a heart? No, you are a physician! Well, I tell you
I will not drag my daughter before a tribunal, and give her up to the
executioner! The bare idea would kill me--would drive me like a madman to
dig my heart out with my finger-nails! And if you were mistaken,
doctor--if it were not my daughter--if I should come one day, pale as a
spectre, and say to you, 'Assassin, you have killed my child!'--hold--if
that should happen, although I am a Christian, M. d'Avrigny, I should kill
myself." "Well,"
said the doctor, after a moment's silence, "I will wait."
Villefort looked at him as if he had doubted his words. "Only,"
continued M. d'Avrigny, with a slow and solemn tone, "if any one
falls ill in your house, if you feel yourself attacked, do not send for
me, for I will come no more. I will consent to share this dreadful secret
with you, but I will not allow shame and remorse to grow and increase in
my conscience, as crime and misery will in your house." "Then
you abandon me, doctor?" "Yes,
for I can follow you no farther, and I only stop at the foot of the
scaffold. Some further discovery will be made, which will bring this
dreadful tragedy to a close. Adieu." "I
entreat you, doctor!" "All
the horrors that disturb my thoughts make your house odious and fatal.
Adieu, sir." "One
word--one single word more, doctor! You go, leaving me in all the horror
of my situation, after increasing it by what you have revealed to me. But
what will be reported of the sudden death of the poor old servant?" "True,"
said M. d'Avrigny; "we will return." The
doctor went out first, followed by M. de Villefort. The terrified servants
were on the stairs and in the passage where the doctor would pass.
"Sir," said d'Avrigny to Villefort, so loud that all might hear,
"poor Barrois has led too sedentary a life of late; accustomed
formerly to ride on horseback, or in the carriage, to the four corners of
Europe, the monotonous walk around that arm-chair has killed him--his
blood has thickened. He was stout, had a short, thick neck; he was
attacked with apoplexy, and I was called in too late. By the way,"
added he in a low tone, "take care to throw away that cup of syrup of
violets in the ashes." The
doctor, without shaking hands with Villefort, without adding a word to
what he had said, went out, amid the tears and lamentations of the whole
household. The same evening all Villefort's servants, who had assembled in
the kitchen, and had a long consultation, came to tell Madame de Villefort
that they wished to leave. No entreaty, no proposition of increased wages,
could induce them to remain; to every argument they replied, "We must
go, for death is in this house." They all left, in spite of prayers
and entreaties, testifying their regret at leaving so good a master and
mistress, and especially Mademoiselle Valentine, so good, so kind, and so
gentle. Villefort looked at Valentine as they said this. She was in tears,
and, strange as it was, in spite of the emotions he felt at the sight of
these tears, he looked also at Madame de Villefort, and it appeared to him
as if a slight gloomy smile had passed over her thin lips, like a meteor
seen passing inauspiciously between two clouds in a stormy sky. |
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