help believing them, Valentine. At the sound of that carriage I
shuddered; soon I heard steps on the staircase, which terrified me as
much as the footsteps of the commander did Don Juan. The door at last
opened; Albert de Morcerf entered first, and I began to hope my fears
were vain, when, after him, another young man advanced, and the count
exclaimed--'Ah, here is the Baron Franz d'Epinay!' I summoned all my
strength and courage to my support. Perhaps I turned pale and trembled,
but certainly I smiled; and five minutes after I left, without having
heard one word that had passed."
"Poor Maximilian!" murmured Valentine.
"Valentine, the time has arrived when you must answer me. And remember
my life depends on your answer. What do you intend doing?" Valentine
held down her head; she was overwhelmed.
"Listen," said Morrel; "it is not the first time you have contemplated
our present position, which is a serious and urgent one; I do not think
it is a moment to give way to useless sorrow; leave that for those who
like to suffer at their leisure and indulge their grief in secret. There
are such in the world, and God will doubtless reward them in heaven for
their resignation on earth, but those who mean to contend must not lose
one precious moment, but must return immediately the blow which fortune
strikes. Do you intend to struggle against our ill-fortune? Tell me,
Valentine for it is that I came to know."
Valentine trembled, and looked at him with amazement. The idea of
resisting her father, her grandmother, and all the family, had never
occurred to her. "What do you say, Maximilian?" asked Valentine. "What
do you mean by a struggle? Oh, it would be a sacrilege. What? I resist
my father's order, and my dying grandmother's wish? Impossible!" Morrel
started. "You are too noble not to understand me, and you understand me
so well that you already yield, dear Maximilian. No, no; I shall need
all my strength to struggle with myself and support my grief in secret,
as you say. But to grieve my father--to disturb my grandmother's last
moments--never!"
"You are right," said Morrel, calmly.
"In what a tone you speak!" cried Valentine.
"I speak as one who admires you, mademoiselle."
"Mademoiselle," cried Valentine; "mademoiselle! Oh, selfish man,--he
sees me in despair, and pretends he cannot understand me!"
"You mistake--I understand you perfectly. You will not oppose M.
Villefort, you will not displease the marchioness, and to-morrow you
will sign the contract which will bind you to your husband."
"But, mon Dieu, tell me, how can I do otherwise?"
"Do not appeal to me, mademoiselle; I shall be a bad judge in such a
case; my selfishness will blind me," replied Morrel, whose low voice and
clinched hands announced his growing desperation.
"What would you have proposed, Maximilian, had you found me willing to
accede?"
"It is not for me to say."
"You are wrong; you must advise me what to do."
"Do you seriously ask my advice, Valentine?"
"Certainly, dear Maximilian, for if it is good, I will follow it; you
know my devotion to you."
"Valentine," said Morrel pushing aside a loose plank, "give me your hand
in token of forgiveness of my anger; my senses are confused, and during
the last hour the most extravagant thoughts have passed through my
brain. Oh, if you refuse my advice"--
"What do you advise?" said Valentine, raising her eyes to heaven and
sighing. "I am free," replied Maximilian, "and rich enough to support
you. I swear to make you my lawful wife before my lips even shall have
approached your forehead."
"You make me tremble!" said the young girl.
"Follow me," said Morrel; "I will take you to my sister, who is worthy
also to be yours. We will embark for Algiers, for England, for America,
or, if you prefer it, retire to the country and only return to Paris
when our friends have reconciled your family." Valentine shook her head.
"I feared it, Maximilian," said she; "it is the counsel of a madman, and
I should be more mad than you, did I not stop you at once with the word
'Impossible, impossible!'"
"You will then submit to what fate decrees for you without even
attempting to contend with it?" said Morrel sorrowfully. "Yes,--if I
die!"
"Well, Valentine," resumed Maximilian, "I can only say again that you
are right. Truly, it is I who am mad, and you prove to me that passion
blinds the most well-meaning. I appreciate your calm reasoning. It is
then understood that to-morrow you will be irrevocably promised to
M. Franz d'Epinay, not only by that theatrical formality invented to
heighten the effect of a comedy called the signature of the contract,
but your own will?"
"Again you drive me to despair, Maximilian," said Valentine, "again you
plunge the dagger into the wound! What would you do, tell me, if your
sister listened to such a proposition?"
"Mademoiselle," replied Morrel with a bitter smile, "I am selfish--you
have already said so--and as a selfish man I think not of what others
would do in my situation, but of what I intend doing myself. I think
only that I have known you not a whole year. From the day I first saw
you, all my hopes of happiness have been in securing your affection. One
day you acknowledged that you loved me, and since that day my hope of
future happiness has rested on obtaining you, for to gain you would be
life to me. Now, I think no more; I say only that fortune has turned
against me--I had thought to gain heaven, and now I have lost it. It is
an every-day occurrence for a gambler to lose not only what he possesses
but also what he has not." Morrel pronounced these words with perfect
calmness; Valentine looked at him a moment with her large, scrutinizing
eyes, endeavoring not to let Morrel discover the grief which struggled
in her heart. "But, in a word, what are you going to do?" asked she.
"I am going to have the honor of taking my leave of you, mademoiselle,
solemnly assuring you that I wish your life may be so calm, so happy,
and so fully occupied, that there may be no place for me even in your
memory."
"Oh!" murmured Valentine.
"Adieu, Valentine, adieu!" said Morrel, bowing.
"Where are you going?" cried the young girl, extending her hand through
the opening, and seizing Maximilian by his coat, for she understood from
her own agitated feelings that her lover's calmness could not be real;
"where are you going?"
"I am going, that I may not bring fresh trouble into your family: and to
set an example which every honest and devoted man, situated as I am, may
follow."
"Before you leave me, tell me what you are going to do, Maximilian." The
young man smiled sorrowfully. "Speak, speak!" said Valentine; "I entreat
you."
"Has your resolution changed, Valentine?"
"It cannot change, unhappy man; you know it must not!" cried the young
girl. "Then adieu, Valentine!" Valentine shook the gate with a strength
of which she could not have been supposed to be possessed, as Morrel was
going away, and passing both her hands through the opening, she clasped
and wrung them. "I must know what you mean to do!" said she. "Where are
you going?"
"Oh, fear not," said Maximilian, stopping at a short distance, "I do not
intend to render another man responsible for the rigorous fate reserved
for me. Another might threaten to seek M. Franz, to provoke him, and to
fight with him; all that would be folly. What has M. Franz to do with
it? He saw me this morning for the first time, and has already forgotten
he has seen me. He did not even know I existed when it was arranged by
your two families that you should be united. I have no enmity against M.
Franz, and promise you the punishment shall not fall on him."
"On whom, then!--on me?"
"On you? Valentine! Oh, heaven forbid! Woman is sacred; the woman one
loves is holy."
"On yourself, then, unhappy man; on yourself?"
"I am the only guilty person, am I not?" said Maximilian.
"Maximilian!" said Valentine, "Maximilian, come back, I entreat you!" He
drew near with his sweet smile, and but for his paleness one might
have thought him in his usual happy mood. "Listen, my dear, my adored
Valentine," said he in his melodious and grave tone; "those who, like
us, have never had a thought for which we need blush before the world,
such may read each other's hearts. I never was romantic, and am no
melancholy hero. I imitate neither Manfred nor Anthony; but without
words, protestations, or vows, my life has entwined itself with yours;
you leave me, and you are right in doing so,--I repeat it, you are
right; but in losing you, I lose my life.
"The moment you leave me, Valentine, I am alone in the world. My sister
is happily married; her husband is only my brother-in-law, that is, a
man whom the ties of social life alone attach to me; no one then longer
needs my useless life. This is what I shall do; I will wait until the
very moment you are married, for I will not lose the shadow of one of
those unexpected chances which are sometimes reserved for us, since M.
Franz may, after all, die before that time, a thunderbolt may fall even
on the altar as you approach it,--nothing appears impossible to one
condemned to die, and miracles appear quite reasonable when his escape
from death is concerned. I will, then, wait until the last moment,
and when my misery is certain, irremediable, hopeless, I will write
a confidential letter to my brother-in-law, another to the prefect of
police, to acquaint them with my intention, and at the corner of some
wood, on the brink of some abyss, on the bank of some river, I will put
an end to my existence, as certainly as I am the son of the most honest
man who ever lived in France."
Valentine trembled convulsively; she loosened her hold of the gate, her
arms fell by her side, and two large tears rolled down her cheeks. The
young man stood before her, sorrowful and resolute. "Oh, for pity's
sake," said she, "you will live, will you not?"
"No, on my honor," said Maximilian; "but that will not affect you. You
have done your duty, and your conscience will be at rest." Valentine
fell on her knees, and pressed her almost bursting heart. "Maximilian,"
said she, "Maximilian, my friend, my brother on earth, my true husband
in heaven, I entreat you, do as I do, live in suffering; perhaps we may
one day be united."
"Adieu, Valentine," repeated Morrel.
"My God," said Valentine, raising both her hands to heaven with a
sublime expression, "I have done my utmost to remain a submissive
daughter; I have begged, entreated, implored; he has regarded neither
my prayers, my entreaties, nor my tears. It is done," cried she, willing
away her tears, and resuming her firmness, "I am resolved not to die of
remorse, but rather of shame. Live, Maximilian, and I will be yours. Say
when shall it be? Speak, command, I will obey." Morrel, who had already
gone some few steps away, again returned, and pale with joy extended
both hands towards Valentine through the opening. "Valentine," said he,
"dear Valentine, you must not speak thus--rather let me die. Why
should I obtain you by violence, if our love is mutual? Is it from mere
humanity you bid me live? I would then rather die."
"Truly," murmured Valentine, "who on this earth cares for me, if he does
not? Who has consoled me in my sorrow but he? On whom do my hopes rest?
On whom does my bleeding heart repose? On him, on him, always on him!
Yes, you are right, Maximilian, I will follow you. I will leave the
paternal home, I will give up all. Oh, ungrateful girl that I am," cried
Valentine, sobbing, "I will give up all, even my dear old grandfather,
whom I had nearly forgotten."
"No," said Maximilian, "you shall not leave him. M. Noirtier has
evinced, you say, a kind feeling towards me. Well, before you leave,
tell him all; his consent would be your justification in God's sight. As
soon as we are married, he shall come and live with us, instead of one
child, he shall have two. You have told me how you talk to him and
how he answers you; I shall very soon learn that language by signs,
Valentine, and I promise you solemnly, that instead of despair, it is
happiness that awaits us."
"Oh, see, Maximilian, see the power you have over me, you almost make
me believe you; and yet, what you tell me is madness, for my father will
curse me--he is inflexible--he will never pardon me. Now listen to me,
Maximilian; if by artifice, by entreaty, by accident--in short, if by
any means I can delay this marriage, will you wait?"
"Yes, I promise you, as faithfully as you have promised me that this
horrible marriage shall not take place, and that if you are dragged
before a magistrate or a priest, you will refuse."
"I promise you by all that is most sacred to me in the world, namely, by
my mother."
"We will wait, then," said Morrel.
"Yes, we will wait," replied Valentine, who revived at these words;
"there are so many things which may save unhappy beings such as we are."
"I rely on you, Valentine," said Morrel; "all you do will be well
done; only if they disregard your prayers, if your father and Madame de
Saint-Meran insist that M. d'Epinay should be called to-morrow to sign
the contract"--
"Then you have my promise, Maximilian."
"Instead of signing"--
