The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated by Alexandre Dumas
Chapter 103. Maximilian
Villefort rose, half-ashamed of being surprised in such a paroxysm ofgrief. The terrible office he had held for twenty-five years hadsucceeded in making him more or less than man. His glance, at firstwandering, fixed itself upon Morrel. “Who are you, sir,” he asked, “thatforget that this is not the manner to enter a house stricken with death?Go, sir, go!”
But Morrel remained motionless; he could not detach his eyes from thatdisordered bed, and the pale corpse of the young girl who was lying onit.
“Go!—do you hear?” said Villefort, while d’Avrigny advanced to leadMorrel out. Maximilian stared for a moment at the corpse, gazed allaround the room, then upon the two men; he opened his mouth to speak,but finding it impossible to give utterance to the innumerable ideasthat occupied his brain, he went out, thrusting his hands through hishair in such a manner that Villefort and d’Avrigny, for a momentdiverted from the engrossing topic, exchanged glances, which seemed tosay,—“He is mad!”
But in less than five minutes the staircase groaned beneath anextraordinary weight. Morrel was seen carrying, with superhumanstrength, the armchair containing Noirtier upstairs. When he reached thelanding he placed the armchair on the floor and rapidly rolled it intoValentine’s room. This could only have been accomplished by means ofunnatural strength supplied by powerful excitement. But the most fearfulspectacle was Noirtier being pushed towards the bed, his face expressingall his meaning, and his eyes supplying the want of every other faculty.That pale face and flaming glance appeared to Villefort like a frightfulapparition. Each time he had been brought into contact with his father,something terrible had happened.
“See what they have done!” cried Morrel, with one hand leaning on theback of the chair, and the other extended towards Valentine. “See, myfather, see!”
Villefort drew back and looked with astonishment on the young man, who,almost a stranger to him, called Noirtier his father. At this moment thewhole soul of the old man seemed centred in his eyes which becamebloodshot; the veins of the throat swelled; his cheeks and templesbecame purple, as though he was struck with epilepsy; nothing waswanting to complete this but the utterance of a cry. And the cry issuedfrom his pores, if we may thus speak—a cry frightful in its silence.D’Avrigny rushed towards the old man and made him inhale a powerfulrestorative.
“Sir,” cried Morrel, seizing the moist hand of the paralytic, “they askme who I am, and what right I have to be here. Oh, you know it, tellthem, tell them!” And the young man’s voice was choked by sobs.
As for the old man, his chest heaved with his panting respiration. Onecould have thought that he was undergoing the agonies preceding death.At length, happier than the young man, who sobbed without weeping, tearsglistened in the eyes of Noirtier.
“Tell them,” said Morrel in a hoarse voice, “tell them that I am herbetrothed. Tell them she was my beloved, my noble girl, my only blessingin the world. Tell them—oh, tell them, that corpse belongs to me!”
The young man overwhelmed by the weight of his anguish, fell heavily onhis knees before the bed, which his fingers grasped with convulsiveenergy. D’Avrigny, unable to bear the sight of this touching emotion,turned away; and Villefort, without seeking any further explanation, andattracted towards him by the irresistible magnetism which draws ustowards those who have loved the people for whom we mourn, extended hishand towards the young man.
But Morrel saw nothing; he had grasped the hand of Valentine, and unableto weep vented his agony in groans as he bit the sheets. For some timenothing was heard in that chamber but sobs, exclamations, and prayers.At length Villefort, the most composed of all, spoke:
“Sir,” said he to Maximilian, “you say you loved Valentine, that youwere betrothed to her. I knew nothing of this engagement, of this love,yet I, her father, forgive you, for I see that your grief is real anddeep; and besides my own sorrow is too great for anger to find a placein my heart. But you see that the angel whom you hoped for has left thisearth—she has nothing more to do with the adoration of men. Take a lastfarewell, sir, of her sad remains; take the hand you expected to possessonce more within your own, and then separate yourself from her forever.Valentine now requires only the ministrations of the priest.”
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“You are mistaken, sir,” exclaimed Morrel, raising himself on one knee,his heart pierced by a more acute pang than any he had yet felt—“you aremistaken; Valentine, dying as she has, not only requires a priest, butan avenger. You, M. de Villefort, send for the priest; I will be theavenger.”
“What do you mean, sir?” asked Villefort, trembling at the new ideainspired by the delirium of Morrel.
“I tell you, sir, that two persons exist in you; the father has mournedsufficiently, now let the procureur fulfil his office.”
The eyes of Noirtier glistened, and d’Avrigny approached.
“Gentlemen,” said Morrel, reading all that passed through the minds ofthe witnesses to the scene, “I know what I am saying, and you know aswell as I do what I am about to say—Valentine has been assassinated!”
Villefort hung his head, d’Avrigny approached nearer, and Noirtier said“Yes” with his eyes.
“Now, sir,” continued Morrel, “in these days no one can disappear byviolent means without some inquiries being made as to the cause of herdisappearance, even were she not a young, beautiful, and adorablecreature like Valentine. Now, M. le Procureur du Roi,” said Morrel withincreasing vehemence, “no mercy is allowed; I denounce the crime; it isyour place to seek the assassin.”
The young man’s implacable eyes interrogated Villefort, who, on hisside, glanced from Noirtier to d’Avrigny. But instead of findingsympathy in the eyes of the doctor and his father, he only saw anexpression as inflexible as that of Maximilian.
“Yes,” indicated the old man.
“Assuredly,” said d’Avrigny.
“Sir,” said Villefort, striving to struggle against this triple forceand his own emotion,—“sir, you are deceived; no one commits crimes here.I am stricken by fate. It is horrible, indeed, but no one assassinates.”
The eyes of Noirtier lighted up with rage, and d’Avrigny prepared tospeak. Morrel, however, extended his arm, and commanded silence.
“And I say that murders are committed here,” said Morrel, whose voice,though lower in tone, lost none of its terrible distinctness: “I tellyou that this is the fourth victim within the last four months. I tellyou, Valentine’s life was attempted by poison four days ago, though sheescaped, owing to the precautions of M. Noirtier. I tell you that thedose has been double, the poison changed, and that this time it hassucceeded. I tell you that you know these things as well as I do, sincethis gentleman has forewarned you, both as a doctor and as a friend.”
“Oh, you rave, sir,” exclaimed Villefort, in vain endeavoring to escapethe net in which he was taken.
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“I rave?” said Morrel; “well, then, I appeal to M. d’Avrigny himself.Ask him, sir, if he recollects the words he uttered in the garden ofthis house on the night of Madame de Saint-Méran’s death. You thoughtyourselves alone, and talked about that tragical death, and the fatalityyou mentioned then is the same which has caused the murder ofValentine.” Villefort and d’Avrigny exchanged looks.
“Yes, yes,” continued Morrel; “recall the scene, for the words youthought were only given to silence and solitude fell into my ears.Certainly, after witnessing the culpable indolence manifested by M. deVillefort towards his own relations, I ought to have denounced him tothe authorities; then I should not have been an accomplice to thy death,as I now am, sweet, beloved Valentine; but the accomplice shall becomethe avenger. This fourth murder is apparent to all, and if thy fatherabandon thee, Valentine, it is I, and I swear it, that shall pursue theassassin.”
And this time, as though nature had at least taken compassion on thevigorous frame, nearly bursting with its own strength, the words ofMorrel were stifled in his throat; his breast heaved; the tears, so longrebellious, gushe
Then d’Avrigny spoke. “And I, too,” he exclaimed in a low voice, “Iunite with M. Morrel in demanding justice for crime; my blood boils atthe idea of having encouraged a murderer by my cowardly concession.”
“Oh, merciful Heavens!” murmured Villefort. Morrel raised his head, andreading the eyes of the old man, which gleamed with unnatural lustre,—
“Stay,” he said, “M. Noirtier wishes to speak.”
“Yes,” indicated Noirtier, with an expression the more terrible, fromall his faculties being centred in his glance.
“Do you know the assassin?” asked Morrel.
“Yes,” replied Noirtier.
“And will you direct us?” exclaimed the young man. “Listen, M.d’Avrigny, listen!”
Noirtier looked upon Morrel with one of those melancholy smiles whichhad so often made Valentine happy, and thus fixed his attention. Then,having riveted the eyes of his interlocutor on his own, he glancedtowards the door.
“Do you wish me to leave?” said Morrel, sadly.
“Yes,” replied Noirtier.
“Alas, alas, sir, have pity on me!”
The old man’s eyes remained fixed on the door.
“May I, at least, return?” asked Morrel.
“Yes.”
“Must I leave alone?”
“No.”
“Whom am I to take with me? The procureur?”
“No.”
“The doctor?”
“Yes.”
“You wish to remain alone with M. de Villefort?”
“Yes.”
“But can he understand you?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” said Villefort, inexpressibly delighted to think that theinquiries were to be made by him alone,—“oh, be satisfied, I canunderstand my father.” While uttering these words with this expressionof joy, his teeth clashed together violently.
D’Avrigny took the young man’s arm, and led him out of the room. A morethan deathlike silence then reigned in the house. At the end of aquarter of an hour a faltering footstep was heard, and Villefortappeared at the door of the apartment where d’Avrigny and Morrel hadbeen staying, one absorbed in meditation, the other in grief.
“You can come,” he said, and led them back to Noirtier.
Morrel looked attentively on Villefort. His face was livid, large dropsrolled down his face, and in his fingers he held the fragments of aquill pen which he had torn to atoms.
“Gentlemen,” he said in a hoarse voice, “give me your word of honor thatthis horrible secret shall forever remain buried amongst ourselves!” Thetwo men drew back.
“I entreat you——” continued Villefort.
“But,” said Morrel, “the culprit—the murderer—the assassin.”
“Do not alarm yourself, sir; justice will be done,” said Villefort. “Myfather has revealed the culprit’s name; my father thirsts for revenge asmuch as you do, yet even he conjures you as I do to keep this secret. Doyou not, father?”
“Yes,” resolutely replied Noirtier. Morrel suffered an exclamation ofhorror and surprise to escape him.
“Oh, sir,” said Villefort, arresting Maximilian by the arm, “if myfather, the inflexible man, makes this request, it is because he knows,be assured, that Valentine will be terribly revenged. Is it not so,father?”
The old man made a sign in the affirmative. Villefort continued:
“He knows me, and I have pledged my word to him. Rest assured,gentlemen, that within three days, in a less time than justice woulddemand, the revenge I shall have taken for the murder of my child willbe such as to make the boldest heart tremble;” and as he spoke thesewords he ground his teeth, and grasped the old man’s senseless hand.
“Will this promise be fulfilled, M. Noirtier?” asked Morrel, whiled’Avrigny looked inquiringly.
“Yes,” replied Noirtier with an expression of sinister joy.
“Swear, then,” said Villefort, joining the hands of Morrel andd’Avrigny, “swear that you will spare the honor of my house, and leaveme to avenge my child.”
D’Avrigny turned round and uttered a very feeble “Yes,” but Morrel,disengaging his hand, rushed to the bed, and after having pressed thecold lips of Valentine with his own, hurriedly left, uttering a long,deep groan of despair and anguish.
We have before stated that all the servants had fled. M. de Villefortwas therefore obliged to request M. d’Avrigny to superintend all thearrangements consequent upon a death in a large city, more especially adeath under such suspicious circumstances.
It was something terrible to witness the silent agony, the mute despairof Noirtier, whose tears silently rolled down his cheeks. Villefortretired to his study, and d’Avrigny left to summon the doctor of themayoralty, whose office it is to examine bodies after decease, and whois expressly named “the doctor of the dead.” M. Noirtier could not bepersuaded to quit his grandchild. At the end of a quarter of an hour M.d’Avrigny returned with his associate; they found the outer gate closed,and not a servant remaining in the house; Villefort himself was obligedto open to them. But he stopped on the landing; he had not the courageto again visit the death chamber. The two doctors, therefore, enteredthe room alone. Noirtier was near the bed, pale, motionless, and silentas the corpse. The district doctor approached with the indifference of aman accustomed to spend half his time amongst the dead; he then liftedthe sheet which was placed over the face, and just unclosed the lips.
“Alas,” said d’Avrigny, “she is indeed dead, poor child!”
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“Yes,” answered the doctor laconically, dropping the sheet he hadraised. Noirtier uttered a kind of hoarse, rattling sound; the old man’seyes sparkled, and the good doctor understood that he wished to beholdhis child. He therefore approached the bed, and while his companion wasdipping the fingers with which he had touched the lips of the corpse inchloride of lime, he uncovered the calm and pale face, which looked likethat of a sleeping angel.
A tear, which appeared in the old man’s eye, expressed his thanks to thedoctor. The doctor of the dead then laid his permit on the corner of thetable, and having fulfilled his duty, was conducted out by d’Avrigny.Villefort met them at the door of his study; having in a few wordsthanked the district doctor, he turned to d’Avrigny, and said:
“And now the priest.”
“Is there any particular priest you wish to pray with Valentine?” askedd’Avrigny.
“No.” said Villefort; “fetch the nearest.”
“The nearest,” said the district doctor, “is a good Italian abbé, wholives next door to you. Shall I call on him as I pass?”
“D’Avrigny,” said Villefort, “be so kind, I beseech you, as to accompanythis gentleman. Here is the key of the door, so that you can go in andout as you please; you will bring the priest with you, and will obligeme by introducing him into my child’s room.”
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“Do you wish to see him?”
“I only wish to be alone. You will excuse me, will you not? A priest canunderstand a father’s grief.”
And M. de Villefort, giving the key to d’Avrigny, again bade farewell tothe strange doctor, and retired to his study, where he began to work.For some temperaments work is a remedy for all afflictions.
As the doctors entered the street, they saw a man in a cassock standingon the threshold of the next door.
“This is the abbé of whom I spoke,” said the doctor to d’Avrigny.D’Avrigny accosted the priest.
“Sir,” he said, “are you disposed to confer a great obligation on anunhappy father who has just lost his daughter? I mean M. de Villefort,the king’s attorney.”
“Ah,” said the priest, in a marked Italian accent; “yes, I have heardthat death is in that house.”
“Then I need not tell you what kind of service he requires of you.”
“I was about to offer myself, sir,” said the priest; “it is our missionto forestall our duties.”<
“It is a young girl.”
“I know it, sir; the servants who fled from the house informed me. Ialso know that her name is Valentine, and I have already prayed forher.”
“Thank you, sir,” said d’Avrigny; “since you have commenced your sacredoffice, deign to continue it. Come and watch by the dead, and all thewretched family will be grateful to you.”
“I am going, sir; and I do not hesitate to say that no prayers will bemore fervent than mine.”
D’Avrigny took the priest’s hand, and without meeting Villefort, who wasengaged in his study, they reached Valentine’s room, which on thefollowing night was to be occupied by the undertakers. On entering theroom, Noirtier’s eyes met those of the abbé, and no doubt he read someparticular expression in them, for he remained in the room. D’Avrignyrecommended the attention of the priest to the living as well as to thedead, and the abbé promised to devote his prayers to Valentine and hisattentions to Noirtier.
In order, doubtless, that he might not be disturbed while fulfilling hissacred mission, the priest rose as soon as d’Avrigny departed, and notonly bolted the door through which the doctor had just left, but alsothat leading to Madame de Villefort’s room.