effort to extend his hand, but it fell powerless beside him. Then it
appeared to him that Monte Cristo smiled, not with the strange and
fearful expression which had sometimes revealed to him the secrets of
his heart, but with the benevolent kindness of a father for a child.
At the same time the count appeared to increase in stature, his form,
nearly double its usual height, stood out in relief against the red
tapestry, his black hair was thrown back, and he stood in the attitude
of an avenging angel. Morrel, overpowered, turned around in the
arm-chair; a delicious torpor permeated every vein. A change of
ideas presented themselves to his brain, like a new design on
the kaleidoscope. Enervated, prostrate, and breathless, he became
unconscious of outward objects; he seemed to be entering that vague
delirium preceding death. He wished once again to press the count's
hand, but his own was immovable. He wished to articulate a last
farewell, but his tongue lay motionless and heavy in his throat, like
a stone at the mouth of a sepulchre. Involuntarily his languid eyes
closed, and still through his eyelashes a well-known form seemed to move
amid the obscurity with which he thought himself enveloped.
The count had just opened a door. Immediately a brilliant light from the
next room, or rather from the palace adjoining, shone upon the room in
which he was gently gliding into his last sleep. Then he saw a woman of
marvellous beauty appear on the threshold of the door separating the
two rooms. Pale, and sweetly smiling, she looked like an angel of mercy
conjuring the angel of vengeance. "Is it heaven that opens before me?"
thought the dying man; "that angel resembles the one I have lost." Monte
Cristo pointed out Morrel to the young woman, who advanced towards him
with clasped hands and a smile upon her lips.
"Valentine, Valentine!" he mentally ejaculated; but his lips uttered
no sound, and as though all his strength were centred in that internal
emotion, he sighed and closed his eyes. Valentine rushed towards him;
his lips again moved.
"He is calling you," said the count; "he to whom you have confided your
destiny--he from whom death would have separated you, calls you to him.
Happily, I vanquished death. Henceforth, Valentine, you will never
again be separated on earth, since he has rushed into death to find you.
Without me, you would both have died. May God accept my atonement in the
preservation of these two existences!"
Valentine seized the count's hand, and in her irresistible impulse of
joy carried it to her lips.
"Oh, thank me again!" said the count; "tell me till you are weary, that
I have restored you to happiness; you do not know how much I require
this assurance."
"Oh, yes, yes, I thank you with all my heart," said Valentine; "and if
you doubt the sincerity of my gratitude, oh, then, ask Haidee! ask my
beloved sister Haidee, who ever since our departure from France, has
caused me to wait patiently for this happy day, while talking to me of
you."
"You then love Haidee?" asked Monte Cristo with an emotion he in vain
endeavored to dissimulate.
"Oh, yes, with all my soul."
"Well, then, listen, Valentine," said the count; "I have a favor to ask
of you."
"Of me? Oh, am I happy enough for that?"
"Yes; you have called Haidee your sister,--let her become so indeed,
Valentine; render her all the gratitude you fancy that you owe to me;
protect her, for" (the count's voice was thick with emotion) "henceforth
she will be alone in the world."
"Alone in the world!" repeated a voice behind the count, "and why?"
Monte Cristo turned around; Haidee was standing pale, motionless,
looking at the count with an expression of fearful amazement.
"Because to-morrow, Haidee, you will be free; you will then assume
your proper position in society, for I will not allow my destiny to
overshadow yours. Daughter of a prince, I restore to you the riches and
name of your father."
Haidee became pale, and lifting her transparent hands to heaven,
exclaimed in a voice stifled with tears, "Then you leave me, my lord?"
"Haidee, Haidee, you are young and beautiful; forget even my name, and
be happy."
"It is well," said Haidee; "your order shall be executed, my lord;
I will forget even your name, and be happy." And she stepped back to
retire.
"Oh, heavens," exclaimed Valentine, who was supporting the head of
Morrel on her shoulder, "do you not see how pale she is? Do you not see
how she suffers?"
Haidee answered with a heartrending expression, "Why should he
understand this, my sister? He is my master, and I am his slave; he has
the right to notice nothing."
The count shuddered at the tones of a voice which penetrated the inmost
recesses of his heart; his eyes met those of the young girl and he could
not bear their brilliancy. "Oh, heavens," exclaimed Monte Cristo, "can
my suspicions be correct? Haidee, would it please you not to leave me?"
"I am young," gently replied Haidee; "I love the life you have made so
sweet to me, and I should be sorry to die."
"You mean, then, that if I leave you, Haidee"--
"I should die; yes, my lord."
"Do you then love me?"
"Oh, Valentine, he asks if I love him. Valentine, tell him if you love
Maximilian." The count felt his heart dilate and throb; he opened his
arms, and Haidee, uttering a cry, sprang into them. "Oh, yes," she
cried, "I do love you! I love you as one loves a father, brother,
husband! I love you as my life, for you are the best, the noblest of
created beings!"
"Let it be, then, as you wish, sweet angel; God has sustained me in my
struggle with my enemies, and has given me this reward; he will not let
me end my triumph in suffering; I wished to punish myself, but he has
pardoned me. Love me then, Haidee! Who knows? perhaps your love will
make me forget all that I do not wish to remember."
"What do you mean, my lord?"
"I mean that one word from you has enlightened me more than twenty years
of slow experience; I have but you in the world, Haidee; through you
I again take hold on life, through you I shall suffer, through you
rejoice."
"Do you hear him, Valentine?" exclaimed Haidee; "he says that through me
he will suffer--through me, who would yield my life for his." The count
withdrew for a moment. "Have I discovered the truth?" he said; "but
whether it be for recompense or punishment, I accept my fate. Come,
Haidee, come!" and throwing his arm around the young girl's waist, he
pressed the hand of Valentine, and disappeared.
An hour had nearly passed, during which Valentine, breathless and
motionless, watched steadfastly over Morrel. At length she felt his
heart beat, a faint breath played upon his lips, a slight shudder,
announcing the return of life, passed through the young man's frame. At
length his eyes opened, but they were at first fixed and expressionless;
then sight returned, and with it feeling and grief. "Oh," he cried, in
an accent of despair, "the count has deceived me; I am yet living;" and
extending his hand towards the table, he seized a knife.
"Dearest," exclaimed Valentine, with her adorable smile, "awake, and
look at me!" Morrel uttered a loud exclamation, and frantic, doubtful,
dazzled, as though by a celestial vision, he fell upon his knees.
The next morning at daybreak, Valentine and Morrel were walking
arm-in-arm on the sea-shore, Valentine relating how Monte Cristo had
appeared in her room, explained everything, revealed the crime, and,
finally, how he had saved her life by enabling her to simulate death.
They had found the door of the grotto opened, and gone forth; on the
azure dome of heaven still glittered a few remaining stars. Morrel soon
perceived a man standing among the rocks, apparently awaiting a sign
from them to advance, and pointed him out to Valentine. "Ah, it is
Jacopo," she said, "the captain of the yacht;" and she beckoned him
towards them.
"Do you wish to speak to us?" asked Morrel.
"I have a letter to give you from the count."
"From the count!" murmured the two young people.
"Yes; read it." Morrel opened the letter, and read:--
"My Dear Maximilian,--
"There is a felucca for you at anchor. Jacopo will carry you to Leghorn,
where Monsieur Noirtier awaits his granddaughter, whom he wishes to
bless before you lead her to the altar. All that is in this grotto, my
friend, my house in the Champs Elysees, and my chateau at Treport, are
the marriage gifts bestowed by Edmond Dantes upon the son of his old
master, Morrel. Mademoiselle de Villefort will share them with you; for
I entreat her to give to the poor the immense fortune reverting to her
from her father, now a madman, and her brother who died last September
with his mother. Tell the angel who will watch over your future destiny,
Morrel, to pray sometimes for a man, who like Satan thought himself
for an instant equal to God, but who now acknowledges with Christian
humility that God alone possesses supreme power and infinite wisdom.
Perhaps those prayers may soften the remorse he feels in his heart. As
for you, Morrel, this is the secret of my conduct towards you. There is
neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison
of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest
grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt
what it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of
living.
"Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never
forget that until the day when God shall deign to reveal the future
to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words,--'_Wait and
hope_.'--Your friend,
"Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte Cristo."
During the perusal of this letter, which informed Valentine for the
first time of the madness of her father and the death of her brother,
she became pale, a heavy sigh escaped from her bosom, and tears, not
the less painful because they were silent, ran down her cheeks; her
happiness cost her very dear. Morrel looked around uneasily. "But," he
said, "the count's generosity is too overwhelming; Valentine will be
satisfied with my humble fortune. Where is the count, friend? Lead me
to him." Jacopo pointed towards the horizon. "What do you mean?" asked
Valentine. "Where is the count?--where is Haidee?"
"Look!" said Jacopo.
The eyes of both were fixed upon the spot indicated by the sailor, and
on the blue line separating the sky from the Mediterranean Sea, they
perceived a large white sail. "Gone," said Morrel; "gone!--adieu, my
friend--adieu, my father!"
"Gone," murmured Valentine; "adieu, my sweet Haidee--adieu, my sister!"
"Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?" said Morrel with
tearful eyes.
"Darling," replied Valentine, "has not the count just told us that all
human wisdom is summed up in two words?--'_Wait and hope_.'"
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