"But what then must be done?" asked Morrel."Madame de Saint-Meran's last request was, that the marriage might not be delayed; must I let things take their course?" Noirtier did not move."I understand," said Morrel; "I am to wait.""Yes."
"But delay may ruin our plan, sir," replied the young man.
"Alone, Valentine has no power; she will be compelled to submit.I am here almost miraculously, and can scarcely hope for so good an opportunity to occur again.Believe me, there are only the two plans I have proposed to you; forgive my vanity, and tell me which you prefer.Do you authorize Mademoiselle Valentine to intrust herself to my honor?""No."
"Do you prefer I should seek M.d'Epinay?""No."
"Whence then will come the help we need -- from chance?"resumed Morrel.
"No."
"From you?"
"Yes."
"You thoroughly understand me, sir? Pardon my eagerness, for my life depends on your answer.Will our help come from you?""Yes."
"You are sure of it?"
"Yes." There was so much firmness in the look which gave this answer, no one could, at any rate, doubt his will, if they did his power."Oh, thank you a thousand times! But how, unless a miracle should restore your speech, your gesture, your movement, how can you, chained to that arm-chair, dumb and motionless, oppose this marriage?" Asmile lit up the old man's face, a strange smile of the eyes in a paralyzed face."Then I must wait?" asked the young man.
"Yes."
"But the contract?" The same smile returned."Will you assure me it shall not be signed?""Yes," said Noirtier.
"The contract shall not be signed!" cried Morrel."Oh, pardon me, sir; I can scarcely realize so great a happiness.
Will they not sign it?"
"No," said the paralytic.Notwithstanding that assurance, Morrel still hesitated.This promise of an impotent old man was so strange that, instead of being the result of the power of his will, it might emanate from enfeebled organs.
Is it not natural that the madman, ignorant of his folly, should attempt things beyond his power? The weak man talks of burdens he can raise, the timid of giants he can confront, the poor of treasures he spends, the most humble peasant, in the height of his pride, calls himself Jupiter.
Whether Noirtier understood the young man's indecision, or whether he had not full confidence in his docility, he looked uneasily at him."What do you wish, sir?" asked Morrel; "that I should renew my promise of remaining tranquil?" Noirtier's eye remained fixed and firm, as if to imply that a promise did not suffice; then it passed from his face to his hands.
"Shall I swear to you, sir?" asked Maximilian.
"Yes?" said the paralytic with the same solemnity.Morrel understood that the old man attached great importance to an oath.He extended his hand.
"I swear to you, on my honor," said he, "to await your decision respecting the course I am to pursue with M.
d'Epinay."
"That is right," said the old man.
"Now," said Morrel, "do you wish me to retire?""Yes."
"Without seeing Mademoiselle Valentine?"
"Yes."
Morrel made a sign that he was ready to obey."But," said he, "first allow me to embrace you as your daughter did just now." Noirtier's expression could not be understood.The young man pressed his lips on the same spot, on the old man's forehead, where Valentine's had been.Then he bowed a second time and retired.He found outside the door the old servant, to whom Valentine had given directions.Morrel was conducted along a dark passage, which led to a little door opening on the garden, soon found the spot where he had entered, with the assistance of the shrubs gained the top of the wall, and by his ladder was in an instant in the clover-field where his cabriolet was still waiting for him.
He got in it, and thoroughly wearied by so many emotions, arrived about midnight in the Rue Meslay, threw himself on his bed and slept soundly.