Chapter 57. In the Lucern Patch
Our readers must now allow us to transport them again to the enclosuresurrounding M. de Villefort’s house, and, behind the gate, half screenedfrom view by the large chestnut-trees, which on all sides spread theirluxuriant branches, we shall find some people of our acquaintance. Thistime Maximilian was the first to arrive. He was intently watching for ashadow to appear among the trees, and awaiting with anxiety the sound ofa light step on the gravel walk.
At length, the long-desired sound was heard, and instead of one figure,as he had expected, he perceived that two were approaching him. Thedelay had been occasioned by a visit from Madame Danglars and Eugénie,which had been prolonged beyond the time at which Valentine wasexpected. That she might not appear to fail in her promise toMaximilian, she proposed to Mademoiselle Danglars that they should takea walk in the garden, being anxious to show that the delay, which wasdoubtless a cause of vexation to him, was not occasioned by any neglecton her part. The young man, with the intuitive perception of a lover,quickly understood the circumstances in which she was involuntarilyplaced, and he was comforted. Besides, although she avoided comingwithin speaking distance, Valentine arranged so that Maximilian couldsee her pass and repass, and each time she went by, she managed,unperceived by her companion, to cast an expressive look at the youngman, which seemed to say, “Have patience! You see it is not my fault.”
And Maximilian was patient, and employed himself in mentally contrastingthe two girls,—one fair, with soft languishing eyes, a figure gracefullybending like a weeping willow; the other a brunette, with a fierce andhaughty expression, and as straight as a poplar. It is unnecessary tostate that, in the eyes of the young man, Valentine did not suffer bythe contrast. In about half an hour the girls went away, and Maximilianunderstood that Mademoiselle Danglars’ visit had at last come to an end.In a few minutes Valentine re-entered the garden alone. For fear thatanyone should be observing her return, she walked slowly; and instead ofimmediately directing her steps towards the gate, she seated herself ona bench, and, carefully casting her eyes around, to convince herselfthat she was not watched, she presently arose, and proceeded quickly tojoin Maximilian.
“Good-evening, Valentine,” said a well-known voice.
“Good-evening, Maximilian; I know I have kept you waiting, but you sawthe cause of my delay.”
“Yes, I recognized Mademoiselle Danglars. I was not aware that you wereso intimate with her.”
“Who told you we were intimate, Maximilian?”
“No one, but you appeared to be so. From the manner in which you walkedand talked together, one would have thought you were two school-girlstelling your secrets to each other.”
“We were having a confidential conversation,” returned Valentine; “shewas owning to me her repugnance to the marriage with M. de Morcerf; andI, on the other hand, was confessing to her how wretched it made me tothink of marrying M. d’Épinay.”
“Dear Valentine!”
“That will account to you for the unreserved manner which you observedbetween me and Eugénie, as in speaking of the man whom I could not love,my thoughts involuntarily reverted to him on whom my affections werefixed.”
“Ah, how good you are to say so, Valentine! You possess a quality whichcan never belong to Mademoiselle Danglars. It is that indefinable charmwhich is to a woman what perfume is to the flower and flavor to thefruit, for the beauty of either is not the only quality we seek.”
“It is your love which makes you look upon everything in that light.”
“No, Valentine, I assure you such is not the case. I was observing youboth when you were walking in the garden, and, on my honor, without atall wishing to depreciate the beauty of Mademoiselle Danglars, I cannotunderstand how any man can really love her.”
“The fact is, Maximilian, that I was there, and my presence had theeffect of rendering you unjust in your comparison.”
“No; but tell me—it is a question of simple curiosity, and which wassuggested by certain ideas passing in my mind relative to MademoiselleDanglars——”
“I dare say it is something disparaging which you are going to say. Itonly proves how little indulgence we may expect from your sex,”interrupted Valentine.
“You cannot, at least, deny that you are very harsh judges of eachother.”
“If we are so, it is because we generally judge under the influence ofexcitement. But return to your question.”
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“Does Mademoiselle Danglars object to this marriage with M. de Morcerfon account of loving another?”
“I told you I was not on terms of strict intimacy with Eugénie.”
“Yes, but girls tell each other secrets without being particularlyintimate; own, now, that you did question her on the subject. Ah, I seeyou are smiling.”
“If you are already aware of the conversation that passed, the woodenpartition which interposed between us and you has proved but a slightsecurity.”
“Come, what did she say?”
“She told me that she loved no one,” said Valentine; “that she dislikedthe idea of being married; that she would infinitely prefer leading anindependent and unfettered life; and that she almost wished her fathermight lose his fortune, that she might become an artist, like herfriend, Mademoiselle Louise d’Armilly.”
“Ah, you see——”
“Well, what does that prove?” asked Valentine.
“Nothing,” replied Maximilian.
“Then why did you smile?”
“Why, you know very well that you are reflecting on yourself,Valentine.”
“Do you want me to go away?”
“Ah, no, no. But do not let us lose time; you are the subject on which Iwish to speak.”
“True, we must be quick, for we have scarcely ten minutes more to passtogether.”
“Ma foi!” said Maximilian, in consternation.
“Yes, you are right; I am but a poor friend to you. What a life I causeyou to lead, poor Maximilian, you who are formed for happiness! Ibitterly reproach myself, I assure you.”
“Well, what does it signify, Valentine, so long as I am satisfied, andfeel that even this long and painful suspense is amply repaid by fiveminutes of your society, or two words from your lips? And I have also adeep conviction that heaven would not have created two hearts,harmonizing as ours do, and almost miraculously brought us together, toseparate us at last.”
“Those are kind and cheering words. You must hope for us both,Maximilian; that will make me at least partly happy.”
“But why must you leave me so soon?”
“I do not know particulars. I can only tell you that Madame de Villefortsent to request my presence, as she had a communication to make on whicha part of my fortune depended. Let them take my fortune, I am alreadytoo rich; and, perhaps, when they have taken it, they will leave me inpeace and quietness. You would love me as much if I were poor, would younot, Maximilian?”
“Oh, I shall always love you. What should I care for either riches orpoverty, if my Valentine was near me, and I felt certain that no onecould deprive me of her? But do you not fear that this communication mayrelate to your marriage?”
“I do not think that is the case.”
“However it may be, Valentine, you must not be alarmed. I assure youthat, as long as I live, I shall never love anyone else!”
“Do you think to reassure me when you say that, Maximilian?”
“Pardon me, you are right. I am a brute. But I was going to tell youthat I met M. de Morcerf the other day.”
“Well?”
“Monsieur Franz is his friend, you know.”
“What then?”
“Monsieur de Morcerf has received a letter from Franz, announcing hisimmediate return.” Valentine turned pale, and leaned her hand againstthe gate.
“Ah heavens, if it were that! But no, the communication would not comethrough Madame de Villefort.”
“Why not?”
“Because—I scarcely know why
—but it has appeared as if Madame deVillefort secretly objected to the marriage, although she did not chooseopenly to oppose it.”
“Is it so? Then I feel as if I could adore Madame de Villefort.”
“Do not be in such a hurry to do that,” said Valentine, with a sadsmile.
“If she objects to your marrying M. d’Épinay, she would be all the morelikely to listen to any other proposition.”
“No, Maximilian, it is not suitors to which Madame de Villefort objects,it is marriage itself.”
“Marriage? If she dislikes that so much, why did she ever marryherself?”
“You do not understand me, Maximilian. About a year ago, I talked ofretiring to a convent. Madame de Villefort, in spite of all the remarkswhich she considered it her duty to make, secretly approved of theproposition, my father consented to it at her instigation, and it wasonly on account of my poor grandfather that I finally abandoned theproject. You can form no idea of the expression of that old man’s eyewhen he looks at me, the only person in the world whom he loves, and, Ihad almost said, by whom he is beloved in return. When he learned myresolution, I shall never forget the reproachful look which he cast onme, and the tears of utter despair which chased each other down hislifeless cheeks. Ah, Maximilian, I experienced, at that moment, suchremorse for my intention, that, throwing myself at his feet, Iexclaimed,—‘Forgive me, pray forgive me, my dear grandfather; they maydo what they will with me, I will never leave you.’ When I had ceasedspeaking, he thankfully raised his eyes to heaven, but without utteringa word. Ah, Maximilian, I may have much to suffer, but I feel as if mygrandfather’s look at that moment would more than compensate for all.”
“Dear Valentine, you are a perfect angel, and I am sure I do not knowwhat I—sabring right and left among the Bedouins—can have done to merityour being revealed to me, unless, indeed, Heaven took intoconsideration the fact that the victims of my sword were infidels. Buttell me what interest Madame de Villefort can have in your remainingunmarried?”
“Did I not tell you just now that I was rich, Maximilian—too rich? Ipossess nearly 50,000 livres in right of my mother; my grandfather andmy grandmother, the Marquis and Marquise de Saint-Méran, will leave meas much, and M. Noirtier evidently intends making me his heir. Mybrother Edward, who inherits nothing from his mother, will, therefore,be poor in comparison with me. Now, if I had taken the veil, all thisfortune would have descended to my father, and, in reversion, to hisson.”
“Ah, how strange it seems that such a young and beautiful woman shouldbe so avaricious.”
“It is not for herself that she is so, but for her son, and what youregard as a vice becomes almost a virtue when looked at in the light ofmaternal love.”
“But could you not compromise matters, and give up a portion of yourfortune to her son?”
“How could I make such a proposition, especially to a woman who alwaysprofesses to be so entirely disinterested?”
“Valentine, I have always regarded our love in the light of somethingsacred; consequently, I have covered it with the veil of respect, andhid it in the innermost recesses of my soul. No human being, not even mysister, is aware of its existence. Valentine, will you permit me to makea confidant of a friend and reveal to him the love I bear you?”
Valentine started. “A friend, Maximilian; and who is this friend? Itremble to give my permission.”
“Listen, Valentine. Have you never experienced for anyone that suddenand irresistible sympathy which made you feel as if the object of it hadbeen your old and familiar friend, though, in reality, it was the firsttime you had ever met? Nay, further, have you never endeavored to recallthe time, place, and circumstances of your former intercourse, andfailing in this attempt, have almost believed that your spirits musthave held converse with each other in some state of being anterior tothe present, and that you are only now occupied in a reminiscence of thepast?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that is precisely the feeling which I experienced when I firstsaw that extraordinary man.”
“Extraordinary, did you say?”
“Yes.”
“You have known him for some time, then?”
“Scarcely longer than eight or ten days.”
“And do you call a man your friend whom you have only known for eight orten days? Ah, Maximilian, I had hoped you set a higher value on thetitle of friend.”
“Your logic is most powerful, Valentine, but say what you will, I cannever renounce the sentiment which has instinctively taken possession ofmy mind. I feel as if it were ordained that this man should beassociated with all the good which the future may have in store for me,and sometimes it really seems as if his eye was able to see what was tocome, and his hand endowed with the power of directing events accordingto his own will.”
“He must be a prophet, then,” said Valentine, smiling.
“Indeed,” said Maximilian, “I have often been almost tempted toattribute to him the gift of prophecy; at all events, he has a wonderfulpower of foretelling any future good.”
“Ah,” said Valentine in a mournful tone, “do let me see this man,Maximilian; he may tell me whether I shall ever be loved sufficiently tomake amends for all I have suffered.”
“My poor girl, you know him already.”
“I know him?”
“Yes; it was he who saved the life of your step-mother and her son.”
“The Count of Monte Cristo?”
“The same.”
“Ah,” cried Valentine, “he is too much the friend of Madame de Villefortever to be mine.”
“The friend of Madame de Villefort! It cannot be; surely, Valentine, youare mistaken?”
“No, indeed, I am not; for I assure you, his power over our household isalmost unlimited. Courted by my step-mother, who regards him as theepitome of human wisdom; admired by my father, who says he has neverbefore heard such sublime ideas so eloquently expressed; idolized byEdward, who, notwithstanding his fear of the count’s large black eyes,runs to meet him the moment he arrives, and opens his hand, in which heis sure to find some delightful present,—M. de Monte Cristo appears toexert a mysterious and almost uncontrollable influence over all themembers of our family.”
“If such be the case, my dear Valentine, you must yourself have felt, orat all events will soon feel, the effects of his presence. He meetsAlbert de Morcerf in Italy—it is to rescue him from the hands of thebanditti; he introduces himself to Madame Danglars—it is that he maygive her a royal present; your step-mother and her son pass before hisdoor—it is that his Nubian may save them from destruction. This manevidently possesses the power of influencing events, both as regards menand things. I never saw more simple tastes united to greatermagnificence. His smile is so sweet when he addresses me, that I forgetit ever can be bitter to others. Ah, Valentine, tell me, if he everlooked on you with one of those sweet smiles? if so, depend on it, youwill be happy.”
“Me?” said the young girl, “he never even glances at me; on thecontrary, if I accidentally cross his path, he appears rather to avoidme. Ah, he is not generous, neither does he possess that supernaturalpenetration which you attribute to him, for if he did, he would haveperceived that I was unhappy; and if he had been generous, seeing me sadand solitary, he would have used his influence to my advantage, andsince, as you say, he resembles the sun, he would have warmed my heartwith one of his life-giving rays. You say he loves you, Maximilian; howdo you know that he does? All would pay deference to an officer likeyou, with a fierce moustache and a long sabre, but they think they maycrush a poor weeping girl with impunity.”
“Ah, Valentine, I assure you you are mistaken.”
“If it were otherwise—if he treated me diplomatically—that is to say,like a man who wishes, by some means or other, to obtain a footing inthe house, so that he may ultimately gain the power of dictating to itsoccupants—he would, if it had been but once, have honored me with thesmile which you extol so loudly; but no, he saw that I was unhappy, heunderstood that I could be of
no use to him, and therefore paid noattention to me whatever. Who knows but that, in order to please Madamede Villefort and my father, he may not persecute me by every means inhis power? It is not just that he should despise me so, without anyreason. Ah, forgive me,” said Valentine, perceiving the effect which herwords were producing on Maximilian: “I have done wrong, for I have givenutterance to thoughts concerning that man which I did not even knowexisted in my heart. I do not deny the influence of which you speak, orthat I have not myself experienced it, but with me it has beenproductive of evil rather than good.”
“Well, Valentine,” said Morrel with a sigh, “we will not discuss thematter further. I will not make a confidant of him.”
“Alas!” said Valentine, “I see that I have given you pain. I can onlysay how sincerely I ask pardon for having grieved you. But, indeed, I amnot prejudiced beyond the power of conviction. Tell me what this Countof Monte Cristo has done for you.”
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“I own that your question embarrasses me, Valentine, for I cannot saythat the count has rendered me any ostensible service. Still, as I havealready told you, I have an instinctive affection for him, the source ofwhich I cannot explain to you. Has the sun done anything for me? No; hewarms me with his rays, and it is by his light that I see you—nothingmore. Has such and such a perfume done anything for me? No; its odorcharms one of my senses—that is all I can say when I am asked why Ipraise it. My friendship for him is as strange and unaccountable as hisfor me. A secret voice seems to whisper to me that there must besomething more than chance in this unexpected reciprocity of friendship.In his most simple actions, as well as in his most secret thoughts, Ifind a relation to my own. You will perhaps smile at me when I tell youthat, ever since I have known this man, I have involuntarily entertainedthe idea that all the good fortune which has befallen me originated fromhim. However, I have managed to live thirty years without thisprotection, you will say; but I will endeavor a little to illustrate mymeaning. He invited me to dine with him on Saturday, which was a verynatural thing for him to do. Well, what have I learned since? That yourmother and M. de Villefort are both coming to this dinner. I shall meetthem there, and who knows what future advantages may result from theinterview? This may appear to you to be no unusual combination ofcircumstances; nevertheless, I perceive some hidden plot in thearrangement—something, in fact, more than is apparent on a casual viewof the subject. I believe that this singular man, who appears to fathomthe motives of everyone, has purposely arranged for me to meet M. andMadame de Villefort, and sometimes, I confess, I have gone so far as totry to read in his eyes whether he was in possession of the secret ofour love.”
“My good friend,” said Valentine, “I should take you for a visionary,and should tremble for your reason, if I were always to hear you talk ina strain similar to this. Is it possible that you can see anything morethan the merest chance in this meeting? Pray reflect a little. Myfather, who never goes out, has several times been on the point ofrefusing this invitation; Madame de Villefort, on the contrary, isburning with the desire of seeing this extraordinary nabob in his ownhouse, therefore, she has with great difficulty prevailed on my fatherto accompany her. No, no; it is as I have said, Maximilian,—there is noone in the world of whom I can ask help but yourself and my grandfather,who is little better than a corpse—no support to cling to but my motherin heaven!”
“I see that you are right, logically speaking,” said Maximilian; “butthe gentle voice which usually has such power over me fails to convinceme today.”
“I feel the same as regards yourself.” said Valentine; “and I own that,if you have no stronger proof to give me——”
“I have another,” replied Maximilian; “but I fear you will deem it evenmore absurd than the first.”
“So much the worse,” said Valentine, smiling.
“It is, nevertheless, conclusive to my mind. My ten years of servicehave also confirmed my ideas on the subject of sudden inspirations, forI have several times owed my life to a mysterious impulse which directedme to move at once either to the right or to the left, in order toescape the ball which killed the comrade fighting by my side, while itleft me unharmed.”
“Dear Maximilian, why not attribute your escape to my constant prayersfor your safety? When you are away, I no longer pray for myself, but foryou.”
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“Yes, since you have known me,” said Morrel, smiling; “but that cannotapply to the time previous to our acquaintance, Valentine.”
“You are very provoking, and will not give me credit for anything; butlet me hear this second proof, which you yourself own to be absurd.”
“Well, look through this opening, and you will see the beautiful newhorse which I rode here.”
“Ah! what a beautiful creature!” cried Valentine; “why did you not bringhim close to the gate, so that I could talk to him and pat him?”
“He is, as you see, a very valuable animal,” said Maximilian. “You knowthat my means are limited, and that I am what would be designated a manof moderate pretensions. Well, I went to a horse dealer’s, where I sawthis magnificent horse, which I have named Médéah. I asked the price;they told me it was 4,500 francs. I was, therefore, obliged to give itup, as you may imagine, but I own I went away with rather a heavy heart,for the horse had looked at me affectionately, had rubbed his headagainst me and, when I mounted him, had pranced in the most delightfulway imaginable, so that I was altogether fascinated with him. The sameevening some friends of mine visited me,—M. de Château-Renaud, M.Debray, and five or six other choice spirits, whom you do not know, evenby name. They proposed a game of bouillotte. I never play, for I am notrich enough to afford to lose, or sufficiently poor to desire to gain.But I was at my own house, you understand, so there was nothing to bedone but to send for the cards, which I did.
“Just as they were sitting down to table, M. de Monte Cristo arrived. Hetook his seat amongst them; they played, and I won. I am almost ashamedto say that my gains amounted to 5,000 francs. We separated at midnight.I could not defer my pleasure, so I took a cabriolet and drove to thehorse dealer’s. Feverish and excited, I rang at the door. The person whoopened it must have taken me for a madman, for I rushed at once to thestable. Médéah was standing at the rack, eating his hay. I immediatelyput on the saddle and bridle, to which operation he lent himself withthe best grace possible; then, putting the 4,500 francs into the handsof the astonished dealer, I proceeded to fulfil my intention of passingthe night in riding in the Champs-Élysées. As I rode by the count’shouse I perceived a light in one of the windows, and fancied I saw theshadow of his figure moving behind the curtain. Now, Valentine, I firmlybelieve that he knew of my wish to possess this horse, and that he lostexpressly to give me the means of procuring him.”
“My dear Maximilian, you are really too fanciful; you will not love evenme long. A man who accustoms himself to live in such a world of poetryand imagination must find far too little excitement in a common, every-day sort of attachment such as ours. But they are calling me. Do youhear?”
“Ah, Valentine,” said Maximilian, “give me but one finger through thisopening in the grating, one finger, the littlest finger of all, that Imay have the happiness of kissing it.”
“Maximilian, we said we would be to each other as two voices, twoshadows.”
“As you will, Valentine.”
“Shall you be happy if I do what you wish?”
“Oh, yes!”
Valentine mounted on a bench, and passed not only her finger but herwhole hand through the opening. Maximilian uttered a cry of delight,and, springing forwards, seized the hand extended towards him, andimprinted on it a fervent and impassioned kiss. The little hand was thenimmediately withdrawn, and the young man saw Valentine hurrying towardsthe house, as though she were almost terrified at her own sensations.
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