Chapter 93 Valentine
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WE
MAY easily conceive where Morrel's appointment was. On leaving Monte
Cristo he walked slowly towards Villefort's; we say slowly, for Morrel had
more than half an hour to spare to go five hundred steps, but he had
hastened to take leave of Monte Cristo because he wished to be alone with
his thoughts. He knew his time well--the hour when Valentine was giving
Noirtier his breakfast, and was sure not to be disturbed in the
performance of this pious duty. Noirtier and Valentine had given him leave
to go twice a week, and he was now availing himself of that permission. He
had arrived; Valentine was expecting him. Uneasy and almost crazed, she
seized his hand and led him to her grandfather. This uneasiness, amounting
almost to frenzy, arose from the report Morcerf's adventure had made in
the world, for the affair at the opera was generally known. No one at
Villefort's doubted that a duel would ensue from it. Valentine, with her
woman's instinct, guessed that Morrel would be Monte Cristo's second, and
from the young man's well-known courage and his great affection for the
count, she feared that he would not content himself with the passive part
assigned to him. We may easily understand how eagerly the particulars were
asked for, given, and received; and Morrel could read an indescribable joy
in the eyes of his beloved, when she knew that the termination of this
affair was as happy as it was unexpected. "Now,"
said Valentine, motioning to Morrel to sit down near her grandfather,
while she took her seat on his footstool,--"now let us talk about our
own affairs. You know, Maximilian, grandpapa once thought of leaving this
house, and taking an apartment away from M. de Villefort's." "Yes,"
said Maximilian, "I recollect the project, of which I highly
approved." "Well,"
said Valentine, "you may approve again, for grandpapa is again
thinking of it." "Bravo,"
said Maximilian. "And
do you know," said Valentine, "what reason grandpapa gives for
leaving this house." Noirtier looked at Valentine to impose silence,
but she did not notice him; her looks, her eyes, her smile, were all for
Morrel. "Oh,
whatever may be M. Noirtier's reason," answered Morrel, "I can
readily believe it to be a good one." "An
excellent one," said Valentine. "He pretends the air of the
Faubourg St. Honorиж
is not good for me." "Indeed?"
said Morrel; "in that M. Noirtier may be right; you have not seemed
to be well for the last fortnight." "Not
very," said Valentine. "And grandpapa has become my physician,
and I have the greatest confidence in him, because he knows
everything." "Do
you then really suffer?" asked Morrel quickly. "Oh,
it must not be called suffering; I feel a general uneasiness, that is all.
I have lost my appetite, and my stomach feels as if it were struggling to
get accustomed to something." Noirtier did not lose a word of what
Valentine said. "And what treatment do you adopt for this singular
complaint?" "A
very simple one," said Valentine. "I swallow every morning a
spoonful of the mixture prepared for my grandfather. When I say one
spoonful, I began by one--now I take four. Grandpapa says it is a
panacea." Valentine smiled, but it was evident that she suffered. Maximilian,
in his devotedness, gazed silently at her. She was very beautiful, but her
usual pallor had increased; her eyes were more brilliant than ever, and
her hands, which were generally white like mother-of-pearl, now more
resembled wax, to which time was adding a yellowish hue. From Valentine
the young man looked towards Noirtier. The latter watched with strange and
deep interest the young girl, absorbed by her affection, and he also, like
Morrel, followed those traces of inward suffering which was so little
perceptible to a common observer that they escaped the notice of every one
but the grandfather and the lover. "But,"
said Morrel, "I thought this mixture, of which you now take four
spoonfuls, was prepared for M. Noirtier?" "I
know it is very bitter," said Valentine; "so bitter, that all I
drink afterwards appears to have the same taste." Noirtier looked
inquiringly at his granddaughter. "Yes,
grandpapa," said Valentine; "it is so. Just now, before I came
down to you, I drank a glass of sugared water; I left half, because it
seemed so bitter." Noirtier
turned pale, and made a sign that he wished to speak. Valentine rose to
fetch the dictionary. Noirtier watched her with evident anguish. In fact,
the blood was rushing to the young girl's head already, her cheeks were
becoming red. "Oh," cried she, without losing any of her
cheerfulness, "this is singular! I can't see! Did the sun shine in my
eyes?" And she leaned against the window. "The
sun is not shining," said Morrel, more alarmed by Noirtier's
expression than by Valentine's indisposition. He ran towards her. The
young girl smiled. "Cheer up," said she to Noirtier. "Do
not be alarmed, Maximilian; it is nothing, and has already passed away.
But listen! Do I not hear a carriage in the court-yard?" She opened
Noirtier's door, ran to a window in the passage, and returned hastily.
"Yes," said she, "it is Madame Danglars and her daughter,
who have come to call on us. Good-by;--I must run away, for they would
send here for me, or, rather, farewell till I see you again. Stay with
grandpapa, Maximilian; I promise you not to persuade them to stay." Morrel
watched her as she left the room; he heard her ascend the little staircase
which led both to Madame de Villefort's apartments and to hers. As soon as
she was gone, Noirtier made a sign to Morrel to take the dictionary.
Morrel obeyed; guided by Valentine, he had learned how to understand the
old man quickly. Accustomed, however, as he was to the work, he had to
repeat most of the letters of the alphabet and to find every word in the
dictionary, so that it was ten minutes before the thought of the old man
was translated by these words, "Fetch the glass of water and the
decanter from Valentine's room." Morrel
rang immediately for the servant who had taken Barrois's situation, and in
Noirtier's name gave that order. The servant soon returned. The decanter
and the glass were completely empty. Noirtier made a sign that he wished
to speak. "Why are the glass and decanter empty?" asked he;
"Valentine said she only drank half the glassful." The
translation of this new question occupied another five minutes. "I do
not know," said the servant, "but the housemaid is in
Mademoiselle Valentine's room: perhaps she has emptied them." "Ask
her," said Morrel, translating Noirtier's thought this time by his
look. The servant went out, but returned almost immediately.
"Mademoiselle Valentine passed through the room to go to Madame de
Villefort's," said he; "and in passing, as she was thirsty, she
drank what remained in the glass; as for the decanter, Master Edward had
emptied that to make a pond for his ducks." Noirtier raised his eyes
to heaven, as a gambler does who stakes his all on one stroke. From that
moment the old man's eyes were fixed on the door, and did not quit it. It
was indeed Madame Danglars and her daughter whom Valentine had seen; they
had been ushered into Madame de Villefort's room, who had said she would
receive them there. That is why Valentine passed through her room, which
was on a level with Valentine's, and only separated from it by Edward's.
The two ladies entered the drawing-room with that sort of official
stiffness which preludes a formal communication. Among worldly people
manner is contagious. Madame de Villefort received them with equal
solemnity. Valentine entered at this moment, and the formalities were
resumed. "My dear friend," said the baroness, while the two
young people were shaking hands, "I and Eugижnie are come to be the first to
announce to you the approaching marriage of my daughter with Prince
Cavalcanti." Danglars kept up the title of prince. The popular banker
found that it answered better than count. "Allow me to present you my
sincere congratulations," replied Madame de Villefort. "Prince
Cavalcanti appears to be a young man of rare qualities." "Listen,"
said the baroness, smiling; "speaking to you as a friend I can say
that the prince does not yet appear all he will be. He has about him a
little of that foreign manner by which French persons recognize, at first
sight, the Italian or German nobleman. Besides, he gives evidence of great
kindness of disposition, much keenness of wit, and as to suitability, M.
Danglars assures me that his fortune is majestic--that is his word." "And
then," said Eugижnie,
while turning over the leaves of Madame de Villefort's album, "add
that you have taken a great fancy to the young man." "And,"
said Madame de Villefort, "I need not ask you if you share that
fancy." "I?"
replied Eugижnie
with her usual candor. "Oh, not the least in the world, madame! My
wish was not to confine myself to domestic cares, or the caprices of any
man, but to be an artist, and consequently free in heart, in person, and
in thought." Eugижnie
pronounced these words with so firm a tone that the color mounted to
Valentine's cheeks. The timid girl could not understand that vigorous
nature which appeared to have none of the timidities of woman. "At
any rate," said she, "since I am to be married whether I will or
not, I ought to be thankful to providence for having released me from my
engagement with M. Albert de Morcerf, or I should this day have been the
wife of a dishonored man." "It
is true," said the baroness, with that strange simplicity sometimes
met with among fashionable ladies, and of which plebeian intercourse can
never entirely deprive them,--"it is very true that had not the
Morcerfs hesitated, my daughter would have married Monsieur Albert. The
general depended much on it; he even came to force M. Danglars. We have
had a narrow escape." "But,"
said Valentine, timidly, "does all the father's shame revert upon the
son? Monsieur Albert appears to me quite innocent of the treason charged
against the general." "Excuse
me," said the implacable young girl, "Monsieur Albert claims and
well deserves his share. It appears that after having challenged M. de
Monte Cristo at the Opera yesterday, he apologized on the ground
to-day." "Impossible,"
said Madame de Villefort. "Ah,
my dear friend," said Madame Danglars, with the same simplicity we
before noticed, "it is a fact. I heard it from M. Debray, who was
present at the explanation." Valentine also knew the truth, but she
did not answer. A single word had reminded her that Morrel was expecting
her in M. Noirtier's room. Deeply engaged with a sort of inward
contemplation, Valentine had ceased for a moment to join in the
conversation. She would, indeed, have found it impossible to repeat what
had been said the last few minutes, when suddenly Madame Danglars' hand,
pressed on her arm, aroused her from her lethargy. "What
is it?" said she, starting at Madame Danglars, touch as she would
have done from an electric shock. "It is, my dear Valentine,"
said the baroness, "that you are, doubtless, suffering." "I?"
said the young girl, passing her hand across her burning forehead. "Yes,
look at yourself in that glass; you have turned pale and then red
successively, three or four times in one minute." "Indeed,"
cried Eugижnie,
"you are very pale!" "Oh,
do not be alarmed; I have been so for many days." Artless as she was,
the young girl knew that this was an opportunity to leave, and besides,
Madame de Villefort came to her assistance. "Retire, Valentine,"
said she; "you are really suffering, and these ladies will excuse
you; drink a glass of pure water, it will restore you." Valentine
kissed Eugижnie, bowed to Madame Danglars,
who had already risen to take her leave, and went out. "That poor
child," said Madame de Villefort when Valentine was gone, "she
makes me very uneasy, and I should not be astonished if she had some
serious illness." Meanwhile,
Valentine, in a sort of excitement which she could not quite understand,
had crossed Edward's room without noticing some trick of the child, and
through her own had reached the little staircase. She was within three
steps of the bottom; she already heard Morrel's voice, when suddenly a
cloud passed over her eyes, her stiffened foot missed the step, her hands
had no power to hold the baluster, and falling against the wall she lost
her balance wholly and toppled to the floor. Morrel bounded to the door,
opened it, and found Valentine stretched out at the bottom of the stairs.
Quick as a flash, he raised her in his arms and placed her in a chair.
Valentine opened her eyes. "Oh,
what a clumsy thing I am," said she with feverish volubility; "I
don't know my way. I forgot there were three more steps before the
landing." "You
have hurt yourself, perhaps," said Morrel. "What can I do for
you, Valentine?" Valentine looked around her; she saw the deepest
terror depicted in Noirtier's eyes. "Don't worry, dear
grandpapa," said she, endeavoring to smile; "it is nothing--it
is nothing; I was giddy, that is all." "Another
attack of giddiness," said Morrel, clasping his hands. "Oh,
attend to it, Valentine, I entreat you." "But
no," said Valentine,--"no, I tell you it is all past, and it was
nothing. Now, let me tell you some news; Eugижnie is to be married in a week, and in three days
there is to be a grand feast, a betrothal festival. We are all invited, my
father, Madame de Villefort, and I--at least, I understood it so." "When
will it be our turn to think of these things? Oh, Valentine, you who have
so much influence over your grandpapa, try to make him answer--Soon."
"And
do you," said Valentine, "depend on me to stimulate the
tardiness and arouse the memory of grandpapa?" "Yes,"
cried Morrel, "make haste. So long as you are not mine, Valentine, I
shall always think I may lose you." "Oh,"
replied Valentine with a convulsive movement, "oh, indeed,
Maximilian, you are too timid for an officer, for a soldier who, they say,
never knows fear. Ah, ha, ha!" she burst into a forced and melancholy
laugh, her arms stiffened and twisted, her head fell back on her chair,
and she remained motionless. The cry of terror which was stopped on
Noirtier's lips, seemed to start from his eyes. Morrel understood it; he
knew he must call assistance. The young man rang the bell violently; the
housemaid who had been in Mademoiselle Valentine's room, and the servant
who had replaced Barrois, ran in at the same moment. Valentine was so
pale, so cold, so inanimate that without listening to what was said to
them they were seized with the fear which pervaded that house, and they
flew into the passage crying for help. Madame Danglars and Eugижnie were going out at that
moment; they heard the cause of the disturbance. "I told you
so!" exclaimed Madame de Villefort. "Poor child!" |
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