"I love most fondly -- I love madly -- I love as a man who would give his life-blood to spare her a tear -- I love Valentine de Villefort, who is being murdered at this moment! Do you understand me? I love her; and I ask God and you how I can save her?" Monte Cristo uttered a cry which those only can conceive who have heard the roar of a wounded lion."Unhappy man," cried he, wringing his hands in his turn; "you love Valentine, -- that daughter of an accursed race!" Never had Morrel witnessed such an expression --never had so terrible an eye flashed before his face --never had the genius of terror he had so often seen, either on the battle-field or in the murderous nights of Algeria, shaken around him more dreadful fire.He drew back terrified.
As for Monte Cristo, after this ebullition he closed his eyes as if dazzled by internal light.In a moment he restrained himself so powerfully that the tempestuous heaving of his breast subsided, as turbulent and foaming waves yield to the sun's genial influence when the cloud has passed.This silence, self-control, and struggle lasted about twenty seconds, then the count raised his pallid face.
"See," said he, "my dear friend, how God punishes the most thoughtless and unfeeling men for their indifference, by presenting dreadful scenes to their view.I, who was looking on, an eager and curious spectator, -- I, who was watching the working of this mournful tragedy, -- I, who like a wicked angel was laughing at the evil men committed protected by secrecy (a secret is easily kept by the rich and powerful), I am in my turn bitten by the serpent whose tortuous course I was watching, and bitten to the heart!"Morrel groaned."Come, come," continued the count, "complaints are unavailing, be a man, be strong, be full of hope, for I am here and will watch over you." Morrel shook his head sorrowfully."I tell you to hope.Do you understand me?" cried Monte Cristo."Remember that I never uttered a falsehood and am never deceived.It is twelve o'clock, Maximilian; thank heaven that you came at noon rather than in the evening, or to-morrow morning.Listen, Morrel -- it is noon; if Valentine is not now dead, she will not die.""How so?" cried Morrel, "when I left her dying?" Monte Cristo pressed his hands to his forehead.What was passing in that brain, so loaded with dreadful secrets? What does the angel of light or the angel of darkness say to that mind, at once implacable and generous? God only knows.
Monte Cristo raised his head once more, and this time he was calm as a child awaking from its sleep."Maximilian," said he, "return home.I command you not to stir -- attempt nothing, not to let your countenance betray a thought, and Iwill send you tidings.Go."
"Oh, count, you overwhelm me with that coolness.Have you, then, power against death? Are you superhuman? Are you an angel?" And the young man, who had never shrunk from danger, shrank before Monte Cristo with indescribable terror.But Monte Cristo looked at him with so melancholy and sweet a smile, that Maximilian felt the tears filling his eyes."Ican do much for you, my friend," replied the count."Go; Imust be alone." Morrel, subdued by the extraordinary ascendancy Monte Cristo exercised over everything around him, did not endeavor to resist it.He pressed the count's hand and left.He stopped one moment at the door for Baptistin, whom he saw in the Rue Matignon, and who was running.
Meanwhile, Villefort and d'Avrigny had made all possible haste, Valentine had not revived from her fainting fit on their arrival, and the doctor examined the invalid with all the care the circumstances demanded, and with an interest which the knowledge of the secret intensified twofold.
Villefort, closely watching his countenance and his lips, awaited the result of the examination.Noirtier, paler than even the young girl, more eager than Villefort for the decision, was watching also intently and affectionately.At last d'Avrigny slowly uttered these words: -- "she is still alive!""Still?" cried Villefort; "oh, doctor, what a dreadful word is that.""Yes," said the physician, "I repeat it; she is still alive, and I am astonished at it.""But is she safe?" asked the father.
"Yes, since she lives." At that moment d'Avrigny's glance met Noirtier's eye.It glistened with such extraordinary joy, so rich and full of thought, that the physician was struck.He placed the young girl again on the chair, -- her lips were scarcely discernible, they were so pale and white, as well as her whole face, -- and remained motionless, looking at Noirtier, who appeared to anticipate and commend all he did."Sir," said d'Avrigny to Villefort, "call Mademoiselle Valentine's maid, if you please." Villefort went himself to find her; and d'Avrigny approached Noirtier.
"Have you something to tell me?" asked he.The old man winked his eyes expressively, which we may remember was his only way of expressing his approval.
"Privately?"
"Yes."
"Well, I will remain with you." At this moment Villefort returned, followed by the lady's maid; and after her came Madame de Villefort.