"then Madame de Saint-Meran,--a double fortune to inherit." Villefort
wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "Listen attentively."
"Alas," stammered Villefort, "I do not lose a single word."
"M. Noirtier," resumed M. d'Avrigny in the same pitiless tone,--"M.
Noirtier had once made a will against you--against your family--in favor
of the poor, in fact; M. Noirtier is spared, because nothing is expected
from him. But he has no sooner destroyed his first will and made a
second, than, for fear he should make a third, he is struck down. The
will was made the day before yesterday, I believe; you see there has
been no time lost."
"Oh, mercy, M. d'Avrigny!"
"No mercy, sir! The physician has a sacred mission on earth; and
to fulfil it he begins at the source of life, and goes down to the
mysterious darkness of the tomb. When crime has been committed, and
God, doubtless in anger, turns away his face, it is for the physician to
bring the culprit to justice."
"Have mercy on my child, sir," murmured Villefort.
"You see it is yourself who have first named her--you, her father."
"Have pity on Valentine! Listen--it is impossible! I would as willingly
accuse myself! Valentine, whose heart is pure as a diamond or a lily."
"No pity, procureur; the crime is fragrant. Mademoiselle herself packed
all the medicines which were sent to M. de Saint-Meran; and M. de
Saint-Meran is dead. Mademoiselle de Villefort prepared all the cooling
draughts which Madame de Saint-Meran took, and Madame de Saint-Meran is
dead. Mademoiselle de Villefort took from the hands of Barrois, who was
sent out, the lemonade which M. Noirtier had every morning, and he has
escaped by a miracle. Mademoiselle de Villefort is the culprit--she is
the poisoner! To you, as the king's attorney, I denounce Mademoiselle de
Villefort, do your duty."
"Doctor, I resist no longer--I can no longer defend myself--I believe
you; but, for pity's sake, spare my life, my honor!"
"M. de Villefort," replied the doctor, with increased vehemence, "there
are occasions when I dispense with all foolish human circumspection.
If your daughter had committed only one crime, and I saw her meditating
another, I would say 'Warn her, punish her, let her pass the remainder
of her life in a convent, weeping and praying.' If she had committed
two crimes, I would say, 'Here, M. de Villefort, is a poison that the
prisoner is not acquainted with,--one that has no known antidote, quick
as thought, rapid as lightning, mortal as the thunderbolt; give her that
poison, recommending her soul to God, and save your honor and your life,
for it is yours she aims at; and I can picture her approaching your
pillow with her hypocritical smiles and her sweet exhortations. Woe to
you, M. de Villefort, if you do not strike first!' This is what I would
say had she only killed two persons but she has seen three deaths,--has
contemplated three murdered persons,--has knelt by three corpses! To the
scaffold with the poisoner--to the scaffold! Do you talk of your honor?
Do what I tell you, and immortality awaits you!"
Villefort fell on his knees. "Listen," said he; "I have not the strength
of mind you have, or rather that which you would not have, if instead
of my daughter Valentine your daughter Madeleine were concerned." The
doctor turned pale. "Doctor, every son of woman is born to suffer and to
die; I am content to suffer and to await death."
"Beware," said M. d'Avrigny, "it may come slowly; you will see it
approach after having struck your father, your wife, perhaps your son."
Villefort, suffocating, pressed the doctor's arm. "Listen," cried he;
"pity me--help me! No, my daughter is not guilty. If you drag us
both before a tribunal I will still say, 'No, my daughter is not
guilty;--there is no crime in my house. I will not acknowledge a crime
in my house; for when crime enters a dwelling, it is like death--it does
not come alone.' Listen. What does it signify to you if I am murdered?
Are you my friend? Are you a man? Have you a heart? No, you are a
physician! Well, I tell you I will not drag my daughter before a
tribunal, and give her up to the executioner! The bare idea would
kill me--would drive me like a madman to dig my heart out with my
finger-nails! And if you were mistaken, doctor--if it were not my
daughter--if I should come one day, pale as a spectre, and say to you,
'Assassin, you have killed my child!'--hold--if that should happen,
although I am a Christian, M. d'Avrigny, I should kill myself."
"Well," said the doctor, after a moment's silence, "I will wait."
Villefort looked at him as if he had doubted his words. "Only,"
continued M. d'Avrigny, with a slow and solemn tone, "if any one falls
ill in your house, if you feel yourself attacked, do not send for me,
for I will come no more. I will consent to share this dreadful secret
with you, but I will not allow shame and remorse to grow and increase in
my conscience, as crime and misery will in your house."
"Then you abandon me, doctor?"
"Yes, for I can follow you no farther, and I only stop at the foot of
the scaffold. Some further discovery will be made, which will bring this
dreadful tragedy to a close. Adieu."
"I entreat you, doctor!"
"All the horrors that disturb my thoughts make your house odious and
fatal. Adieu, sir."
"One word--one single word more, doctor! You go, leaving me in all the
horror of my situation, after increasing it by what you have revealed
to me. But what will be reported of the sudden death of the poor old
servant?"
"True," said M. d'Avrigny; "we will return." The doctor went out first,
followed by M. de Villefort. The terrified servants were on the stairs
and in the passage where the doctor would pass. "Sir," said d'Avrigny
to Villefort, so loud that all might hear, "poor Barrois has led too
sedentary a life of late; accustomed formerly to ride on horseback,
or in the carriage, to the four corners of Europe, the monotonous walk
around that arm-chair has killed him--his blood has thickened. He was
stout, had a short, thick neck; he was attacked with apoplexy, and I was
called in too late. By the way," added he in a low tone, "take care to
throw away that cup of syrup of violets in the ashes."
The doctor, without shaking hands with Villefort, without adding a word
to what he had said, went out, amid the tears and lamentations of the
whole household. The same evening all Villefort's servants, who had
assembled in the kitchen, and had a long consultation, came to
tell Madame de Villefort that they wished to leave. No entreaty, no
proposition of increased wages, could induce them to remain; to every
argument they replied, "We must go, for death is in this house." They
all left, in spite of prayers and entreaties, testifying their regret
at leaving so good a master and mistress, and especially Mademoiselle
Valentine, so good, so kind, and so gentle. Villefort looked at
Valentine as they said this. She was in tears, and, strange as it was,
in spite of the emotions he felt at the sight of these tears, he looked
also at Madame de Villefort, and it appeared to him as if a slight
gloomy smile had passed over her thin lips, like a meteor seen passing
inauspiciously between two clouds in a stormy sky.
Chapter 81. The Room of the Retired Baker.
The evening of the day on which the Count of Morcerf had left Danglars'
house with feelings of shame and anger at the rejection of the projected
alliance, M. Andrea Cavalcanti, with curled hair, mustaches in perfect
order, and white gloves which fitted admirably, had entered the
courtyard of the banker's house in La Chaussee d'Antin. He had not been
more than ten minutes in the drawing-room before he drew Danglars aside
into the recess of a bow-window, and, after an ingenious preamble,
related to him all his anxieties and cares since his noble father's
departure. He acknowledged the extreme kindness which had been shown
him by the banker's family, in which he had been received as a son, and
where, besides, his warmest affections had found an object on which
to centre in Mademoiselle Danglars. Danglars listened with the most
profound attention; he had expected this declaration for the last two or
three days, and when at last it came his eyes glistened as much as
they had lowered on listening to Morcerf. He would not, however, yield
immediately to the young man's request, but made a few conscientious
objections. "Are you not rather young, M. Andrea, to think of marrying?"
"I think not, sir," replied M. Cavalcanti; "in Italy the nobility
generally marry young. Life is so uncertain, that we ought to secure
happiness while it is within our reach."
"Well, sir," said Danglars, "in case your proposals, which do me honor,
are accepted by my wife and daughter, by whom shall the preliminary
arrangements be settled? So important a negotiation should, I think, be
conducted by the respective fathers of the young people."
"Sir, my father is a man of great foresight and prudence. Thinking that
I might wish to settle in France, he left me at his departure, together
with the papers establishing my identity, a letter promising, if he
approved of my choice, 150,000 livres per annum from the day I was
married. So far as I can judge, I suppose this to be a quarter of my
father's revenue."
"I," said Danglars, "have always intended giving my daughter 500,000
francs as her dowry; she is, besides, my sole heiress."
"All would then be easily arranged if the baroness and her daughter
are willing. We should command an annuity of 175,000 livres. Supposing,
also, I should persuade the marquis to give me my capital, which is
not likely, but still is possible, we would place these two or three
millions in your hands, whose talent might make it realize ten per
cent."
"I never give more than four per cent, and generally only three and a
half; but to my son-in-law I would give five, and we would share the
profit."
"Very good, father-in-law," said Cavalcanti, yielding to his low-born
nature, which would escape sometimes through the aristocratic gloss with
which he sought to conceal it. Correcting himself immediately, he said,
"Excuse me, sir; hope alone makes me almost mad,--what will not reality
do?"
"But," said Danglars,--who, on his part, did not perceive how soon
the conversation, which was at first disinterested, was turning to a
business transaction,--"there is, doubtless, a part of your fortune your
father could not refuse you?"
"Which?" asked the young man.
"That you inherit from your mother."
"Truly, from my mother, Leonora Corsinari."
"How much may it amount to?"
"Indeed, sir," said Andrea, "I assure you I have never given the subject
a thought, but I suppose it must have been at least two millions."
Danglars felt as much overcome with joy as the miser who finds a lost
treasure, or as the shipwrecked mariner who feels himself on solid
ground instead of in the abyss which he expected would swallow him up.
"Well, sir," said Andrea, bowing to the banker respectfully, "may I
hope?"
"You may not only hope," said Danglars, "but consider it a settled
thing, if no obstacle arises on your part."
"I am, indeed, rejoiced," said Andrea.
"But," said Danglars thoughtfully, "how is it that your patron, M.
de Monte Cristo, did not make his proposal for you?" Andrea blushed
imperceptibly. "I have just left the count, sir," said he; "he is,
doubtless, a delightful man but inconceivably peculiar in his ideas. He
esteems me highly. He even told me he had not the slightest doubt
that my father would give me the capital instead of the interest of my
property. He has promised to use his influence to obtain it for me; but
he also declared that he never had taken on himself the responsibility
of making proposals for another, and he never would. I must, however, do
him the justice to add that he assured me if ever he had regretted the
repugnance he felt to such a step it was on this occasion, because he
thought the projected union would be a happy and suitable one. Besides,
if he will do nothing officially, he will answer any questions you
propose to him. And now," continued he, with one of his most charming
smiles, "having finished talking to the father-in-law, I must address
myself to the banker."
"And what may you have to say to him?" said Danglars, laughing in his
turn.
"That the day after to-morrow I shall have to draw upon you for about
four thousand francs; but the count, expecting my bachelor's revenue
could not suffice for the coming month's outlay, has offered me a draft
for twenty thousand francs. It bears his signature, as you see, which is
all-sufficient."
"Bring me a million such as that," said Danglars, "I shall be well
pleased," putting the draft in his pocket. "Fix your own hour for
to-morrow, and my cashier shall call on you with a check for eighty
thousand francs."
"At ten o'clock then, if you please; I should like it early, as I am
going into the country to-morrow."
"Very well, at ten o'clock; you are still at the Hotel des Princes?"
"Yes."
The following morning, with the banker's usual punctuality, the eighty
thousand francs were placed in the young man's hands as he was on the
point of starting, after having left two hundred francs for Caderousse.
He went out chiefly to avoid this dangerous enemy, and returned as
