Chapter 93. Valentine
We may easily conceive where Morrel’s appointment was. On leaving MonteCristo he walked slowly towards Villefort’s; we say slowly, for Morrelhad more than half an hour to spare to go five hundred steps, but he hadhastened to take leave of Monte Cristo because he wished to be alonewith his thoughts. He knew his time well—the hour when Valentine wasgiving Noirtier his breakfast, and was sure not to be disturbed in theperformance of this pious duty. Noirtier and Valentine had given himleave to go twice a week, and he was now availing himself of thatpermission.
He arrived; Valentine was expecting him. Uneasy and almost crazed, sheseized his hand and led him to her grandfather. This uneasiness,amounting almost to frenzy, arose from the report Morcerf’s adventurehad 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 MonteCristo’s second, and from the young man’s well-known courage and hisgreat affection for the count, she feared that he would not contenthimself with the passive part assigned to him. We may easily understandhow eagerly the particulars were asked for, given, and received; andMorrel could read an indescribable joy in the eyes of his beloved, whenshe knew that the termination of this affair was as happy as it wasunexpected.
“Now,” said Valentine, motioning to Morrel to sit down near hergrandfather, while she took her seat on his footstool,—“now let us talkabout our own affairs. You know, Maximilian, grandpapa once thought ofleaving this house, and taking an apartment away from M. deVillefort’s.”
“Yes,” said Maximilian, “I recollect the project, of which I highlyapproved.”
“Well,” said Valentine, “you may approve again, for grandpapa is againthinking of it.”
“Bravo,” said Maximilian.
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“And do you know,” said Valentine, “what reason grandpapa gives forleaving this house.” Noirtier looked at Valentine to impose silence, butshe did not notice him; her looks, her eyes, her smile, were all forMorrel.
“Oh, whatever may be M. Noirtier’s reason,” answered Morrel, “I canreadily believe it to be a good one.”
“An excellent one,” said Valentine. “He pretends the air of the FaubourgSaint-Honoré is not good for me.”
“Indeed?” said Morrel; “in that M. Noirtier may be right; you have notseemed to be well for the last fortnight.”
“Not very,” said Valentine. “And grandpapa has become my physician, andI 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, thatis all. I have lost my appetite, and my stomach feels as if it werestruggling to get accustomed to something.” Noirtier did not lose a wordof what Valentine said.
“And what treatment do you adopt for this singular complaint?”
“A very simple one,” said Valentine. “I swallow every morning a spoonfulof the mixture prepared for my grandfather. When I say one spoonful, Ibegan by one—now I take four. Grandpapa says it is a panacea.” Valentinesmiled, but it was evident that she suffered.
Maximilian, in his devotedness, gazed silently at her. She was verybeautiful, but her usual pallor had increased; her eyes were morebrilliant than ever, and her hands, which were generally white likemother-of-pearl, now more resembled wax, to which time was adding ayellowish hue.
From Valentine the young man looked towards Noirtier. The latter watchedwith strange and deep interest the young girl, absorbed by heraffection, and he also, like Morrel, followed those traces of inwardsuffering which was so little perceptible to a common observer that theyescaped the notice of everyone but the grandfather and the lover.
“But,” said Morrel, “I thought this mixture, of which you now take fourspoonfuls, was prepared for M. Noirtier?”
“I know it is very bitter,” said Valentine; “so bitter, that all I drinkafterwards appears to have the same taste.” Noirtier looked inquiringlyat his granddaughter. “Yes, grandpapa,” said Valentine; “it is so. Justnow, before I came down to you, I drank a glass of sugared water; I lefthalf, because it seemed so bitter.” Noirtier turned pale, and made asign that he wished to speak.
Valentine rose to fetch the dictionary. Noirtier watched her withevident anguish. In fact, the blood was rushing to the young girl’s headalready, her cheeks were becoming red.
“Oh,” cried she, without losing any of her cheerfulness, “this issingular! I can’t see! Did the sun shine in my eyes?” And she leanedagainst the window.
“The sun is not shining,” said Morrel, more alarmed by Noirtier’sexpression than by Valentine’s indisposition. He ran towards her. Theyoung girl smiled.
“Cheer up,” said she to Noirtier. “Do not be alarmed, Maximilian; it isnothing, and has already passed away. But listen! Do I not hear acarriage in the courtyard?” She opened Noirtier’s door, ran to a windowin the passage, and returned hastily. “Yes,” said she, “it is MadameDanglars and her daughter, who have come to call on us. Good-bye;—I mustrun away, for they would send here for me, or, rather, farewell till Isee you again. Stay with grandpapa, Maximilian; I promise you not topersuade them to stay.”
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Morrel watched her as she left the room; he heard her ascend the littlestaircase which led both to Madame de Villefort’s apartments and tohers. As soon as she was gone, Noirtier made a sign to Morrel to takethe dictionary. Morrel obeyed; guided by Valentine, he had learned howto understand the old man quickly. Accustomed, however, as he was to thework, he had to repeat most of the letters of the alphabet and to findevery word in the dictionary, so that it was ten minutes before thethought 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’ssituation, and in Noirtier’s name gave that order. The servant soonreturned. The decanter and the glass were completely empty. Noirtiermade a sign that he wished to speak.
“Why are the glass and decanter empty?” asked he; “Valentine said sheonly 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 MademoiselleValentine’s room: perhaps she has emptied them.”
“Ask her,” said Morrel, translating Noirtier’s thought this time by hislook. The servant went out, but returned almost immediately.“Mademoiselle Valentine passed through the room to go to Madame deVillefort’s,” said he; “and in passing, as she was thirsty, she drankwhat remained in the glass; as for the decanter, Master Edward hademptied that to make a pond for his ducks.”
Noirtier raised his eyes to heaven, as a gambler does who stakes his allon one stroke. From that moment the old man’s eyes were fixed on thedoor, 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 shewould receive them there. That is why Valentine passed through her room,which was on a level with Valentine’s, and only separated from it byEdward’s. The two ladies entered the drawing-room with that sort ofofficial stiffness which preludes a formal communication. Among worldlypeople manner is contagious. Madame de Villefort received them withequal solemnity. Valentine entered at this moment, and the formalitieswere resumed.
“My dear friend,” said the baroness, while the two young people wereshaking hands, “I and Eugénie are come to be the first to announce toyou the approaching marriage of my daughter with Prince Cavalcanti.”Danglars kept up the title of prince. The popular banker found that itanswered better than count.
“Allow me to present you my sincere congratulations,” replied Madame deVillefort. “Prince Cavalcanti appears to be a young man of rarequalities.”
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“Listen,”
said the baroness, smiling; “speaking to you as a friend I cansay that the prince does not yet appear all he will be. He has about hima little of that foreign manner by which French persons recognize, atfirst sight, the Italian or German nobleman. Besides, he gives evidenceof great kindness of disposition, much keenness of wit, and as tosuitability, M. Danglars assures me that his fortune is majestic—that ishis word.”
“And then,” said Eugénie, while turning over the leaves of Madame deVillefort’s album, “add that you have taken a great fancy to the youngman.”
“And,” said Madame de Villefort, “I need not ask you if you share thatfancy.”
“I?” replied Eugénie with her usual candor. “Oh, not the least in theworld, madame! My wish was not to confine myself to domestic cares, orthe caprices of any man, but to be an artist, and consequently free inheart, in person, and in thought.”
Eugénie pronounced these words with so firm a tone that the colormounted to Valentine’s cheeks. The timid girl could not understand thatvigorous 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 ornot, I ought to be thankful to Providence for having released me from myengagement with M. Albert de Morcerf, or I should this day have been thewife of a dishonored man.”
“It is true,” said the baroness, with that strange simplicity sometimesmet with among fashionable ladies, and of which plebeian intercourse cannever entirely deprive them,—“it is very true that had not the Morcerfshesitated, my daughter would have married Monsieur Albert. The generaldepended much on it; he even came to force M. Danglars. We have had anarrow escape.”
“But,” said Valentine, timidly, “does all the father’s shame revert uponthe son? Monsieur Albert appears to me quite innocent of the treasoncharged against the general.”
“Excuse me,” said the implacable young girl, “Monsieur Albert claims andwell deserves his share. It appears that after having challenged M. deMonte Cristo at the Opera yesterday, he apologized on the ground today.”
“Impossible,” said Madame de Villefort.
“Ah, my dear friend,” said Madame Danglars, with the same simplicity webefore noticed, “it is a fact. I heard it from M. Debray, who waspresent at the explanation.”
Valentine also knew the truth, but she did not answer. A single word hadreminded her that Morrel was expecting her in M. Noirtier’s room. Deeplyengaged with a sort of inward contemplation, Valentine had ceased for amoment to join in the conversation. She would, indeed, have found itimpossible to repeat what had been said the last few minutes, whensuddenly Madame Danglars’ hand, pressed on her arm, aroused her from herlethargy.
“What is it?” said she, starting at Madame Danglars’ touch as she wouldhave done from an electric shock.
“It is, my dear Valentine,” said the baroness, “that you are, doubtless,suffering.”
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“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 redsuccessively, three or four times in one minute.”
“Indeed,” cried Eugénie, “you are very pale!”
“Oh, do not be alarmed; I have been so for many days.” Artless as shewas, the young girl knew that this was an opportunity to leave, andbesides, Madame de Villefort came to her assistance.
“Retire, Valentine,” said she; “you are really suffering, and theseladies will excuse you; drink a glass of pure water, it will restoreyou.”
Valentine kissed Eugénie, bowed to Madame Danglars, who had alreadyrisen 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 hadsome serious illness.”
Meanwhile, Valentine, in a sort of excitement which she could not quiteunderstand, had crossed Edward’s room without noticing some trick of thechild, and through her own had reached the little staircase.
She was within three steps of the bottom; she already heard Morrel’svoice, when suddenly a cloud passed over her eyes, her stiffened footmissed the step, her hands had no power to hold the baluster, andfalling against the wall she lost her balance wholly and toppled to thefloor. Morrel bounded to the door, opened it, and found Valentinestretched out at the bottom of the stairs. Quick as a flash, he raisedher 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; “Idon’t know my way. I forgot there were three more steps before thelanding.”
“You have hurt yourself, perhaps,” said Morrel. “What can I do for you,Valentine?”
Valentine looked around her; she saw the deepest terror depicted inNoirtier’s eyes.
“Don’t worry, dear grandpapa,” said she, endeavoring to smile; “it isnothing—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 wasnothing. Now, let me tell you some news; Eugénie is to be married in aweek, and in three days there is to be a grand feast, a betrothalfestival. We are all invited, my father, Madame de Villefort, and I—atleast, I understood it so.”
“When will it be our turn to think of these things? Oh, Valentine, youwho have so much influence over your grandpapa, try to make himanswer—Soon.”
“And do you,” said Valentine, “depend on me to stimulate the tardinessand 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, theysay, never knows fear. Ha, ha, ha!”
She burst into a forced and melancholy laugh, her arms stiffened andtwisted, her head fell back on her chair, and she remained motionless.The cry of terror which was stopped on Noirtier’s lips, seemed to startfrom his eyes. Morrel understood it; he knew he must call assistance.The young man rang the bell violently; the housemaid who had been inMademoiselle Valentine’s room, and the servant who had replaced Barrois,ran in at the same moment. Valentine was so pale, so cold, so inanimatethat without listening to what was said to them they were seized withthe fear which pervaded that house, and they flew into the passagecrying for help. Madame Danglars and Eugénie were going out at thatmoment; they heard the cause of the disturbance.
“I told you so!” exclaimed Madame de Villefort. “Poor child!”
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The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated Page 94