The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (have you read this book TXT) đź“•
"But tell me, Dantes, if you had command of the Pharaon should you be glad to see Danglars remain?"
"Captain or mate, M. Morrel, I shall always have the greatest respect for those who possess the owners' confidence."
"That's right, that's right, Dantes! I see you are a thoroughly good fellow, and will detain you no longer. Go, for I see how impatient you are."
"Then I have leave?"
"Go, I tell you."
"May I have the use of your skiff?"
"Certainly."
"Then, for the present, M. Morrel, farewell, and a thousand thanks!"
"I hope soon to see you again, my dear Edmond. Good luck to you."
The young sailor jumped into the skiff, and sat down in the stern sheets, with the order that he be put ashore at La Canebiere. The two oarsmen bent to the
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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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Valentine had solved the problem, and was able easily to understand his thoughts, and to convey her own in return, and, through her untiring and devoted assiduity, it was seldom that, in the ordinary transactions of every-day life, she failed to anticipate the wishes of the living, thinking mind, or the wants of the almost inanimate body.
As to the servant, he had, as we have said, been with his master for five-and-twenty years, therefore he knew all his habits, and it was seldom that Noirtier found it necessary to ask for anything, so prompt was he in administering to all the necessities of the invalid.
Villefort did not need the help of either Valentine or the domestic in order to carry on with his father the strange conversation which he was about to begin. As we have said, he perfectly understood the old man’s vocabulary, and if he did not use it more often, it was only indifference and ennui which prevented him from so doing. He therefore allowed Valentine to go into the garden, sent away Barrois, and after having seated himself at his father’s right hand, while Madame de Villefort placed herself on the left, he addressed him thus:
“I trust you will not be displeased, sir, that Valentine has not come with us, or that I dismissed Barrois, for our conference will be one which could not with propriety be carried on in the presence of either. Madame de Villefort and I have a communication to make to you.”
Noirtier’s face remained perfectly passive during this long preamble, while, on the contrary, Villefort’s eye was endeavoring to penetrate into the inmost recesses of the old man’s heart.
“This communication,” continued the procureur, in that cold and decisive tone which seemed at once to preclude all discussion, “will, we are sure, meet with your approbation.”
The eye of the invalid still retained that vacancy of expression which prevented his son from obtaining any knowledge of the feelings which were passing in his mind; he listened, nothing more.
“Sir,” resumed Villefort, “we are thinking of marrying Valentine.” Had the old man’s face been moulded in wax it could not have shown less emotion at this news than was now to be traced there. “The marriage will take place in less than three months,” said Villefort.
Noirtier’s eye still retained its inanimate expression.
Madame de Villefort now took her part in the conversation and added:
“We thought this news would possess an interest for you, sir, who have always entertained a great affection for Valentine; it therefore only now remains for us to tell you the name of the young man for whom she is destined. It is one of the most desirable connections which could possibly be formed; he possesses fortune, a high rank in society, and every personal qualification likely to render Valentine supremely happy,—his name, moreover, cannot be wholly unknown to you. It is M. Franz de Quesnel, Baron d’Épinay.”
While his wife was speaking, Villefort had narrowly watched the old man’s countenance. When Madame de Villefort pronounced the name of Franz, the pupil of M. Noirtier’s eye began to dilate, and his eyelids trembled with the same movement that may be perceived on the lips of an individual about to speak, and he darted a lightning glance at Madame de Villefort and his son. The procureur, who knew the political hatred which had formerly existed between M. Noirtier and the elder d’Épinay, well understood the agitation and anger which the announcement had produced; but, feigning not to perceive either, he immediately resumed the narrative begun by his wife.
“Sir,” said he, “you are aware that Valentine is about to enter her nineteenth year, which renders it important that she should lose no time in forming a suitable alliance. Nevertheless, you have not been forgotten in our plans, and we have fully ascertained beforehand that Valentine’s future husband will consent, not to live in this house, for that might not be pleasant for the young people, but that you should live with them; so that you and Valentine, who are so attached to each other, would not be separated, and you would be able to pursue exactly the same course of life which you have hitherto done, and thus, instead of losing, you will be a gainer by the change, as it will secure to you two children instead of one, to watch over and comfort you.”
Noirtier’s look was furious; it was very evident that something desperate was passing in the old man’s mind, for a cry of anger and grief rose in his throat, and not being able to find vent in utterance, appeared almost to choke him, for his face and lips turned quite purple with the struggle. Villefort quietly opened a window, saying, “It is very warm, and the heat affects M. Noirtier.” He then returned to his place, but did not sit down.
“This marriage,” added Madame de Villefort, “is quite agreeable to the wishes of M. d’Épinay and his family; besides, he had no relations nearer than an uncle and aunt, his mother having died at his birth, and his father having been assassinated in 1815, that is to say, when he was but two years old; it naturally followed that the child was permitted to choose his own pursuits, and he has, therefore, seldom acknowledged any other authority but that of his own will.”
“That assassination was a mysterious affair,” said Villefort, “and the perpetrators have hitherto escaped detection, although suspicion has fallen on the head of more than one person.”
Noirtier made such an effort that his lips expanded into a smile.
“Now,” continued Villefort, “those to whom the guilt really belongs, by whom the crime was committed, on whose heads the justice of man may probably descend here, and the certain judgment of God hereafter, would rejoice in the opportunity thus afforded of bestowing such a peace-offering as Valentine on the son of him whose life they so ruthlessly destroyed.” Noirtier had succeeded in mastering his emotion more than could have been deemed possible with such an enfeebled and shattered frame.
“Yes, I understand,” was the reply contained in his look; and this look expressed a feeling of strong indignation, mixed with profound contempt. Villefort fully understood his father’s meaning, and answered by a slight shrug of his shoulders. He then motioned to his wife to take leave.
“Now sir,” said Madame de Villefort, “I must bid you farewell. Would you like me to send Edward to you for a short time?”
It had been agreed that the old man should express his approbation by closing his eyes, his refusal by winking them several times, and if he had some desire or feeling to express, he raised them to heaven. If he wanted Valentine, he closed his right eye only, and if Barrois, the left. At Madame de Villefort’s proposition he instantly winked his eyes.
Provoked by a complete refusal, she bit her lip and said, “Then shall I send Valentine to you?” The old man closed his eyes eagerly, thereby intimating that such was his wish.
M. and Madame de Villefort bowed and left the room, giving orders that Valentine should be summoned to her grandfather’s presence, and feeling sure that she would have much to do to restore calmness to the perturbed spirit of the invalid. Valentine, with a color still heightened by emotion, entered the room just after her parents had quitted it. One look was sufficient to tell her that her grandfather was suffering, and that there was much on his mind which he was wishing to communicate to her.
“Dear grandpapa,” cried she, “what has happened? They have vexed you, and you are angry?”
The paralytic closed his eyes in token of assent.
“Who has displeased you? Is it my father?”
“No.”
“Madame de Villefort?”
“No.”
“Me?” The former sign was repeated.
“Are you displeased with me?” cried Valentine in astonishment. M. Noirtier again closed his eyes.
“And what have I done, dear grandpapa, that you should be angry with me?” cried Valentine.
There was no answer, and she continued:
“I have not seen you all day. Has anyone been speaking to you against me?”
“Yes,” said the old man’s look, with eagerness.
“Let me think a moment. I do assure you, grandpapa—Ah—M. and Madame de Villefort have just left this room, have they not?”
“Yes.”
“And it was they who told you something which made you angry? What was it then? May I go and ask them, that I may have the opportunity of making my peace with you?”
“No, no,” said Noirtier’s look.
“Ah, you frighten me. What can they have said?” and she again tried to think what it could be.
“Ah, I know,” said she, lowering her voice and going close to the old man. “They have been speaking of my marriage,—have they not?”
“Yes,” replied the angry look.
“I understand; you are displeased at the silence I have preserved on the subject. The reason of it was, that they had insisted on my keeping the matter a secret, and begged me not to tell you anything of it. They did not even acquaint me with their intentions, and I only discovered them by chance, that is why I have been so reserved with you, dear grandpapa. Pray forgive me.”
But there was no look calculated to reassure her; all it seemed to say was, “It is not only your reserve which afflicts me.”
“What is it, then?” asked the young girl. “Perhaps you think I shall abandon you, dear grandpapa, and that I shall forget you when I am married?”
“No.”
“They told you, then, that M. d’Épinay consented to our all living together?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you still vexed and grieved?” The old man’s eyes beamed with an expression of gentle affection.
“Yes, I understand,” said Valentine; “it is because you love me.” The old man assented.
“And you are afraid I shall be unhappy?”
“Yes.”
“You do not like M. Franz?” The eyes repeated several times, “No, no, no.”
“Then you are vexed with the engagement?”
“Yes.”
“Well, listen,” said Valentine, throwing herself on her knees, and putting her arm round her grandfather’s neck, “I am vexed, too, for I do not love M. Franz d’Épinay.”
An expression of intense joy illumined the old man’s eyes.
“When I wished to retire into a convent, you remember how angry you were with me?” A tear trembled in the eye of the invalid. “Well,” continued Valentine, “the reason of my proposing it was that I might escape this hateful marriage, which drives me to despair.” Noirtier’s breathing came thick and short.
“Then the idea of this marriage really grieves you too? Ah, if you could but help me—if we could both together defeat their plan! But you are unable to
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