times I am your most respectful servant." The countess left with an
indescribable pang in her heart, and before she had taken ten steps the
count saw her raise her handkerchief to her eyes. "Do not my mother and
you agree?" asked Albert, astonished.
"On the contrary," replied the count, "did you not hear her declare that
we were friends?" They re-entered the drawing-room, which Valentine and
Madame de Villefort had just quitted. It is perhaps needless to add that
Morrel departed almost at the same time.
Chapter 72. Madame de Saint-Meran.
A gloomy scene had indeed just passed at the house of M. de Villefort.
After the ladies had departed for the ball, whither all the entreaties
of Madame de Villefort had failed in persuading him to accompany them,
the procureur had shut himself up in his study, according to his custom,
with a heap of papers calculated to alarm any one else, but which
generally scarcely satisfied his inordinate desires. But this time the
papers were a mere matter of form. Villefort had secluded himself, not
to study, but to reflect; and with the door locked and orders given that
he should not be disturbed excepting for important business, he sat down
in his arm-chair and began to ponder over the events, the remembrance of
which had during the last eight days filled his mind with so many gloomy
thoughts and bitter recollections. Then, instead of plunging into the
mass of documents piled before him, he opened the drawer of his desk,
touched a spring, and drew out a parcel of cherished memoranda, amongst
which he had carefully arranged, in characters only known to himself,
the names of all those who, either in his political career, in money
matters, at the bar, or in his mysterious love affairs, had become his
enemies.
Their number was formidable, now that he had begun to fear, and yet
these names, powerful though they were, had often caused him to smile
with the same kind of satisfaction experienced by a traveller who from
the summit of a mountain beholds at his feet the craggy eminences, the
almost impassable paths, and the fearful chasms, through which he has so
perilously climbed. When he had run over all these names in his memory,
again read and studied them, commenting meanwhile upon his lists, he
shook his head.
"No," he murmured, "none of my enemies would have waited so patiently
and laboriously for so long a space of time, that they might now come
and crush me with this secret. Sometimes, as Hamlet says--
'Foul deeds will rise,
Tho' all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes;'
but, like a phosphoric light, they rise but to mislead. The story has
been told by the Corsican to some priest, who in his turn has repeated
it. M. de Monte Cristo may have heard it, and to enlighten himself--but
why should he wish to enlighten himself upon the subject?" asked
Villefort, after a moment's reflection, "what interest can this M. de
Monte Cristo or M. Zaccone,--son of a shipowner of Malta, discoverer
of a mine in Thessaly, now visiting Paris for the first time,--what
interest, I say, can he take in discovering a gloomy, mysterious, and
useless fact like this? However, among all the incoherent details given
to me by the Abbe Busoni and by Lord Wilmore, by that friend and that
enemy, one thing appears certain and clear in my opinion--that in
no period, in no case, in no circumstance, could there have been any
contact between him and me."
But Villefort uttered words which even he himself did not believe. He
dreaded not so much the revelation, for he could reply to or deny its
truth;--he cared little for that mene, tekel, upharsin, which appeared
suddenly in letters of blood upon the wall;--but what he was really
anxious for was to discover whose hand had traced them. While he
was endeavoring to calm his fears,--and instead of dwelling upon the
political future that had so often been the subject of his ambitious
dreams, was imagining a future limited to the enjoyments of home, in
fear of awakening the enemy that had so long slept,--the noise of a
carriage sounded in the yard, then he heard the steps of an aged person
ascending the stairs, followed by tears and lamentations, such as
servants always give vent to when they wish to appear interested in
their master's grief. He drew back the bolt of his door, and almost
directly an old lady entered, unannounced, carrying her shawl on her
arm, and her bonnet in her hand. The white hair was thrown back from her
yellow forehead, and her eyes, already sunken by the furrows of age, now
almost disappeared beneath the eyelids swollen with grief. "Oh, sir,"
she said; "oh, sir, what a misfortune! I shall die of it; oh, yes, I
shall certainly die of it!"
And then, falling upon the chair nearest the door, she burst into a
paroxysm of sobs. The servants, standing in the doorway, not daring to
approach nearer, were looking at Noirtier's old servant, who had heard
the noise from his master's room, and run there also, remaining behind
the others. Villefort rose, and ran towards his mother-in-law, for it
was she.
"Why, what can have happened?" he exclaimed, "what has thus disturbed
you? Is M. de Saint-Meran with you?"
"M. de Saint-Meran is dead," answered the old marchioness, without
preface and without expression; she appeared to be stupefied. Villefort
drew back, and clasping his hands together, exclaimed--"Dead!--so
suddenly?"
"A week ago," continued Madame de Saint-Meran, "we went out together in
the carriage after dinner. M. de Saint-Meran had been unwell for some
days; still, the idea of seeing our dear Valentine again inspired him
with courage, and notwithstanding his illness he would leave. At six
leagues from Marseilles, after having eaten some of the lozenges he is
accustomed to take, he fell into such a deep sleep, that it appeared to
me unnatural; still I hesitated to wake him, although I fancied that
his face was flushed, and that the veins of his temples throbbed more
violently than usual. However, as it became dark, and I could no longer
see, I fell asleep; I was soon aroused by a piercing shriek, as from
a person suffering in his dreams, and he suddenly threw his head back
violently. I called the valet, I stopped the postilion, I spoke to M.
de Saint-Meran, I applied my smelling-salts; but all was over, and I
arrived at Aix by the side of a corpse." Villefort stood with his mouth
half open, quite stupefied.
"Of course you sent for a doctor?"
"Immediately; but, as I have told you, it was too late."
"Yes; but then he could tell of what complaint the poor marquis had
died."
"Oh, yes, sir, he told me; it appears to have been an apoplectic
stroke."
"And what did you do then?"
"M. de Saint-Meran had always expressed a desire, in case his death
happened during his absence from Paris, that his body might be brought
to the family vault. I had him put into a leaden coffin, and I am
preceding him by a few days."
"Oh, my poor mother," said Villefort, "to have such duties to perform at
your age after such a blow!"
"God has supported me through all; and then, my dear marquis, he would
certainly have done everything for me that I performed for him. It is
true that since I left him, I seem to have lost my senses. I cannot cry;
at my age they say that we have no more tears,--still I think that
when one is in trouble one should have the power of weeping. Where
is Valentine, sir? It is on her account I am here; I wish to see
Valentine." Villefort thought it would be terrible to reply that
Valentine was at a ball; so he only said that she had gone out with her
step-mother, and that she should be fetched. "This instant, sir--this
instant, I beseech you!" said the old lady. Villefort placed the arm
of Madame de Saint-Meran within his own, and conducted her to his
apartment. "Rest yourself, mother," he said.
The marchioness raised her head at this word, and beholding the man who
so forcibly reminded her of her deeply-regretted child, who still
lived for her in Valentine, she felt touched at the name of mother, and
bursting into tears, she fell on her knees before an arm-chair, where
she buried her venerable head. Villefort left her to the care of the
women, while old Barrois ran, half-scared, to his master; for nothing
frightens old people so much as when death relaxes its vigilance over
them for a moment in order to strike some other old person. Then,
while Madame de Saint-Meran remained on her knees, praying fervently,
Villefort sent for a cab, and went himself to fetch his wife and
daughter from Madame de Morcerf's. He was so pale when he appeared at
the door of the ball-room, that Valentine ran to him, saying--
"Oh, father, some misfortune has happened!"
"Your grandmamma has just arrived, Valentine," said M. de Villefort.
"And grandpapa?" inquired the young girl, trembling with apprehension.
M. de Villefort only replied by offering his arm to his daughter. It was
just in time, for Valentine's head swam, and she staggered; Madame de
Villefort instantly hastened to her assistance, and aided her husband in
dragging her to the carriage, saying--"What a singular event! Who could
have thought it? Ah, yes, it is indeed strange!" And the wretched
family departed, leaving a cloud of sadness hanging over the rest of
the evening. At the foot of the stairs, Valentine found Barrois awaiting
her.
"M. Noirtier wishes to see you to-night, he said, in an undertone.
"Tell him I will come when I leave my dear grandmamma," she replied,
feeling, with true delicacy, that the person to whom she could be of the
most service just then was Madame de Saint-Meran. Valentine found her
grandmother in bed; silent caresses, heartwrung sobs, broken sighs,
burning tears, were all that passed in this sad interview, while Madame
de Villefort, leaning on her husband's arm, maintained all outward forms
of respect, at least towards the poor widow. She soon whispered to
her husband, "I think it would be better for me to retire, with
your permission, for the sight of me appears still to afflict your
mother-in-law." Madame de Saint-Meran heard her. "Yes, yes," she
said softly to Valentine, "let her leave; but do you stay." Madame de
Villefort left, and Valentine remained alone beside the bed, for the
procureur, overcome with astonishment at the unexpected death, had
followed his wife. Meanwhile, Barrois had returned for the first time to
old Noirtier, who having heard the noise in the house, had, as we have
said, sent his old servant to inquire the cause; on his return, his
quick intelligent eye interrogated the messenger. "Alas, sir," exclaimed
Barrois, "a great misfortune has happened. Madame de Saint-Meran has
arrived, and her husband is dead!"
M. de Saint-Meran and Noirtier had never been on strict terms of
friendship; still, the death of one old man always considerably
affects another. Noirtier let his head fall upon his chest, apparently
overwhelmed and thoughtful; then he closed one eye, in token of inquiry.
"Mademoiselle Valentine?" Noirtier nodded his head. "She is at the
ball, as you know, since she came to say good-by to you in full dress."
Noirtier again closed his left eye. "Do you wish to see her?" Noirtier
again made an affirmative sign. "Well, they have gone to fetch her, no
doubt, from Madame de Morcerf's; I will await her return, and beg her to
come up here. Is that what you wish for?"
"Yes," replied the invalid.
Barrois, therefore, as we have seen, watched for Valentine, and informed
her of her grandfather's wish. Consequently, Valentine came up to
Noirtier, on leaving Madame de Saint-Meran, who in the midst of her
grief had at last yielded to fatigue and fallen into a feverish sleep.
Within reach of her hand they placed a small table upon which stood a
bottle of orangeade, her usual beverage, and a glass. Then, as we have
said, the young girl left the bedside to see M. Noirtier. Valentine
kissed the old man, who looked at her with such tenderness that her eyes
again filled with tears, whose sources he thought must be exhausted.
The old gentleman continued to dwell upon her with the same expression.
"Yes, yes," said Valentine, "you mean that I have yet a kind grandfather
left, do you not." The old man intimated that such was his meaning.
"Ah, yes, happily I have," replied Valentine. "Without that, what would
become of me?"
It was one o'clock in the morning. Barrois, who wished to go to bed
himself, observed that after such sad events every one stood in need of
rest. Noirtier would not say that the only rest he needed was to see
his child, but wished her good-night, for grief and fatigue had made her
appear quite ill. The next morning she found her grandmother in bed;
the fever had not abated, on the contrary her eyes glistened and she
appeared to be suffering from violent nervous irritability. "Oh, dear
grandmamma, are you worse?" exclaimed Valentine, perceiving all these
signs of agitation.
"No, my child, no," said Madame de Saint-Meran; "but I was impatiently
waiting for your arrival, that I might send for your father."
"My father?" inquired Valentine, uneasily.
"Yes, I wish to speak to him." Valentine durst not oppose her
grandmother's wish, the cause of which she did not know, and an instant
afterwards Villefort entered. "Sir," said Madame de Saint-Meran, without
using any circumlocution, and as if fearing she had no time to lose,
"you wrote to me concerning the marriage of this child?"
"Yes, madame," replied Villefort, "it is not only projected but
arranged."
"Your intended son-in-law is named M. Franz d'Epinay?"
