to Valentine, and kept his secret.
The young man read Valentine's letter twenty times in the course
of the day. It was her first, and on what an occasion! Each time he
read it he renewed his vow to make her happy. How great is the
power of a woman who has made so courageous a resolution! What
devotion does she deserve from him for whom she has sacrificed
everything! How ought she really to be supremely loved! She becomes
at once a queen and a wife, and it is impossible to thank and love
her sufficiently. Morrel longed intensely for the moment when he
should hear Valentine say, "Here I am, Maximilian; come and help
me." He had arranged everything for her escape; two ladders were
hidden in the clover-field; a cabriolet was ordered for Maximilian
alone, without a servant, without lights; at the turning of the
first street they would light the lamps, as it would be foolish to
attract the notice of the police by too many precautions.
Occasionally he shuddered; he thought of the moment when, from the
top of that wall, he should protect the descent of his dear
Valentine, pressing in his arms for the first time her of whom he
had yet only kissed the delicate hand.
When the afternoon arrived and he felt that the hour was drawing
near, he wished for solitude, his agitation was extreme; a simple
question from a friend would have irritated him. He shut himself in
his room, and tried to read, but his eye glanced over the page
without understanding a word, and he threw away the book, and for
the second time sat down to sketch his plan, the ladders and the
fence. At length the hour drew near. Never did a man deeply in love
allow the clocks to go on peacefully. Morrel tormented his so
effectually that they struck eight at half-past six. He then said,
"It is time to start; the signature was indeed fixed to take place
at nine o'clock, but perhaps Valentine will not wait for that."
Consequently, Morrel, having left the Rue Meslay at half-past eight
by his timepiece, entered the clover-field while the clock ofby his timepiece, entered the clover-field while the clock of
Saint-Phillippe du Roule was striking eight. The horse and
cabriolet were concealed behind a small ruin, where Morrel had
often waited.
The night gradually drew on, and the foliage in the garden
assumed a deeper hue. Then Morrel came out from his hiding-place
with a beating heart, and looked through the small opening in the
gate; there was yet no one to be seen. The clock struck half-past
eight, and still another half-hour was passed in waiting, while
Morrel walked to and fro, and gazed more and more frequently
through the opening. The garden became darker still, but in the
darkness he looked in vain for the white dress, and in the silence
he vainly listened for the sound of footsteps. The house, which was
discernible through the trees, remained in darkness, and gave no
indication that so important an event as the signature of a
marriage-contract was going on. Morrel looked at his watch, which
wanted a quarter to ten; but soon the same clock he had already
heard strike two or three times rectified the error by striking
half-past nine.
This was already half an hour past the time Valentine had fixed.
It was a terrible moment for the young man. The slightest rustling
of the foliage, the least whistling of the wind, attracted his
attention, and drew the perspiration to his brow; then he
tremblingly fixed his ladder, and, not to lose a moment, placed his
foot on the first step. Amidst all these alternations of hope and
fear, the clock struck ten. "It is impossible," said Maximilian,
"that the signing of a contract should occupy so long a time
without unexpected interruptions. I have weighed all the chances,
calculated the time required for all the forms; something must have
happened." And then he walked rapidly to and fro, and pressed his
burning forehead against the fence. Had Valentine fainted? or had
she been discovered and stopped in her flight? These were the only
obstacles which appeared possible to the young man.obstacles which appeared possible to the young man.
The idea that her strength had failed her in attempting to
escape, and that she had fainted in one of the paths, was the one
that most impressed itself upon his mind. "In that case," said he,
"I should lose her, and by my own fault." He dwelt on this idea for
a moment, then it appeared reality. He even thought he could
perceive something on the ground at a distance; he ventured to
call, and it seemed to him that the wind wafted back an almost
inarticulate sigh. At last the half-hour struck. It was impossible
to wait longer, his temples throbbed violently, his eyes were
growing dim; he passed one leg over the wall, and in a moment
leaped down on the other side. He was on Villefort's premises — had
arrived there by scaling the wall. What might be the consequences?
However, he had not ventured thus far to draw back. He followed a
short distance close under the wall, then crossed a path, hid
entered a clump of trees. In a moment he had passed through them,
and could see the house distinctly. Then Morrel saw that he had
been right in believing that the house was not illuminated. Instead
of lights at every window, as is customary on days of ceremony, he
saw only a gray mass, which was veiled also by a cloud, which at
that moment obscured the moon's feeble light. A light moved rapidly
from time to time past three windows of the second floor. These
three windows were in Madame de Saint-Meran's room. Another
remained motionless behind some red curtains which were in Madame
de Villefort's bedroom. Morrel guessed all this. So many times, in
order to follow Valentine in thought at every hour in the day, had
he made her describe the whole house, that without having seen it
he knew it all.
This darkness and silence alarmed Morrel still more than
Valentine's absence had done. Almost mad with grief, and determined
to venture everything in order to see Valentine once more, and be
certain of the misfortune he feared, Morrel gained the edge of the