who have faith and hope, — oh, do not follow my example. In your
case it would be a crime. Adieu, my noble and generous friend,
adieu; I will go and tell Valentine what you have done for me." And
slowly, though without any hesitation, only waiting to press the
count's hand fervently, he swallowed the mysterious substance
offered by Monte Cristo. Then they were both silent. Ali, mute and
attentive, brought the pipes and coffee, and disappeared. By
degrees, the light of the lamps gradually faded in the hands of the
marble statues which held them, and the perfumes appeared less
powerful to Morrel. Seated opposite to him, Monte Cristo watched
him in the shadow, and Morrel saw nothing but the bright eyes of
the count. An overpowering sadness took possession of the young
man, his hands relaxed their hold, the objects in the room
gradually lost their form and color, and his disturbed vision
seemed to perceive doors and curtains open in the walls.
"Friend," he cried, "I feel that I am dying; thanks!" He made a
last effort to extend his hand, but it fell powerless beside him.
Then it appeared to him that Monte Cristo smiled, not with the
strange and fearful expression which had sometimes revealed to him
the secrets of his heart, but with the benevolent kindness of a
father for a child. At the same time the count appeared to increase
in stature, his form, nearly double its usual height, stood out in
relief against the red tapestry, his black hair was thrown back,
and he stood in the attitude of an avenging angel. Morrel,
overpowered, turned around in the arm-chair; a delicious torpor
permeated every vein. A change of ideas presented themselves to his
brain, like a new design on the kaleidoscope. Enervated, prostrate,
and breathless, he became unconscious of outward objects; he seemed
to be entering that vague delirium preceding death. He wished once
again to press the count's hand, but his own was immovable. He
wished to articulate a last farewell, but his tongue lay motionlesswished to articulate a last farewell, but his tongue lay motionless
and heavy in his throat, like a stone at the mouth of a sepulchre.
Involuntarily his languid eyes closed, and still through his
eyelashes a well-known form seemed to move amid the obscurity with
which he thought himself enveloped.
The count had just opened a door. Immediately a brilliant light
from the next room, or rather from the palace adjoining, shone upon
the room in which he was gently gliding into his last sleep. Then
he saw a woman of marvellous beauty appear on the threshold of the
door separating the two rooms. Pale, and sweetly smiling, she
looked like an angel of mercy conjuring the angel of vengeance. "Is
it heaven that opens before me?" thought the dying man; "that angel
resembles the one I have lost." Monte Cristo pointed out Morrel to
the young woman, who advanced towards him with clasped hands and a
smile upon her lips.
"Valentine, Valentine!" he mentally ejaculated; but his lips
uttered no sound, and as though all his strength were centred in
that internal emotion, he sighed and closed his eyes. Valentine
rushed towards him; his lips again moved.
"He is calling you," said the count; "he to whom you have
confided your destiny — he from whom death would have separated
you, calls you to him. Happily, I vanquished death. Henceforth,
Valentine, you will never again be separated on earth, since he has
rushed into death to find you. Without me, you would both have
died. May God accept my atonement in the preservation of these two
existences!"
Valentine seized the count's hand, and in her irresistible
impulse of joy carried it to her lips.
"Oh, thank me again!" said the count; "tell me till you are
weary, that I have restored you to happiness; you do not know how
much I require this assurance."
"Oh, yes, yes, I thank you with all my heart," said Valentine;
"and if you doubt the sincerity of my gratitude, oh, then, ask
Haidee! ask my beloved sister Haidee, who ever since our departureHaidee! ask my beloved sister Haidee, who ever since our departure
from France, has caused me to wait patiently for this happy day,
while talking to me of you."
"You then love Haidee?" asked Monte Cristo with an emotion he in
vain endeavored to dissimulate.
"Oh, yes, with all my soul."
"Well, then, listen, Valentine," said the count; "I have a favor
to ask of you."
"Of me? Oh, am I happy enough for that?"
"Yes; you have called Haidee your sister, — let her become so
indeed, Valentine; render her all the gratitude you fancy that you
owe to me; protect her, for" (the count's voice was thick with
emotion) "henceforth she will be alone in the world."
"Alone in the world!" repeated a voice behind the count, "and
why?"
Monte Cristo turned around; Haidee was standing pale,
motionless, looking at the count with an expression of fearful
amazement.
"Because to-morrow, Haidee, you will be free; you will then
assume your proper position in society, for I will not allow my
destiny to overshadow yours. Daughter of a prince, I restore to you
the riches and name of your father."
Haidee became pale, and lifting her transparent hands to heaven,
exclaimed in a voice stifled with tears, "Then you leave me, my
lord?"
"Haidee, Haidee, you are young and beautiful; forget even my
name, and be happy."
"It is well," said Haidee; "your order shall be executed, my
lord; I will forget even your name, and be happy." And she stepped
back to retire.
"Oh, heavens," exclaimed Valentine, who was supporting the head
of Morrel on her shoulder, "do you not see how pale she is? Do you
not see how she suffers?"
Haidee answered with a heartrending expression, "Why should he
understand this, my sister? He is my master, and I am his slave; he
has the right to notice nothing."
The count shuddered at the tones of a voice which penetrated the
inmost recesses of his heart; his eyes met those of the young girl
and he could not bear their brilliancy. "Oh, heavens," exclaimed
Monte Cristo, "can my suspicions be correct? Haidee, would it