dealer's, where I saw this magnificent horse, which I have named
Medeah. I asked the price; they told me it was 4,500 francs. I was,
therefore, obliged to give it up, as you may imagine, but I own I
went away with rather a heavy heart, for the horse had looked at me
affectionately, had rubbed his head against me and, when I mounted
him, had pranced in the most delightful way imaginable, so that I
was altogether fascinated with him. The same evening some friends
of mine visited me, — M. de Chateau-Renaud, M. Debray, and five or
six other choice spirits, whom you do not know, even by name. They
proposed a game of bouillotte. I never play, for I am not rich
enough to afford to lose, or sufficiently poor to desire to gain.
But I was at my own house, you understand, so there was nothing to
be done but to send for the cards, which I did.
"Just as they were sitting down to table, M. de Monte Cristo
arrived. He took his seat amongst them; they played, and I won. I
am almost ashamed to say that my gains amounted to 5,000 francs. We
separated at midnight. I could not defer my pleasure, so I took a
cabriolet and drove to the horse dealer's. Feverish and excited, I
rang at the door. The person who opened it must have taken me for a
madman, for I rushed at once to the stable. Medeah was standing at
the rack, eating his hay. I immediately put on the saddle and
bridle, to which operation he lent himself with the best grace
possible; then, putting the 4,500 francs into the hands of the
astonished dealer, I proceeded to fulfil my intention of passing
the night in riding in the Champs Elysees. As I rode by the count's
house I perceived a light in one of the windows, and fancied I saw
the shadow of his figure moving behind the curtain. Now, Valentine,
I firmly believe that he knew of my wish to possess this horse, and
that he lost expressly to give me the means of procuring him."
"My dear Maximilian, you are really too fanciful; you will not
love even me long. A man who accustoms himself to live in such alove even me long. A man who accustoms himself to live in such a
world of poetry and imagination must find far too little excitement
in a common, every-day sort of attachment such as ours. But they
are calling me. Do you hear?"
"Ah, Valentine," said Maximilian, "give me but one finger
through this opening in the grating, one finger, the littlest
finger of all, that I may have the happiness of kissing it."
"Maximilian, we said we would be to each other as two voices,
two shadows."
"As you will, Valentine."
"Shall you be happy if I do what you wish?"
"Oh, yes!" Valentine mounted on a bench, and passed not only her
finger but her whole hand through the opening. Maximilian uttered a
cry of delight, and, springing forwards, seized the hand extended
towards him, and imprinted on it a fervent and impassioned kiss.
The little hand was then immediately withdrawn, and the young man
saw Valentine hurrying towards the house, as though she were almost
terrified at her own sensations.We will now relate what was passing in the house of the king's
attorney after the departure of Madame Danglars and her daughter,
and during the time of the conversation between Maximilian and
Valentine, which we have just detailed. M. de Villefort entered his
father's room, followed by Madame de Villefort. Both of the
visitors, after saluting the old man and speaking to Barrois, a
faithful servant, who had been twenty-five years in his service,
took their places on either side of the paralytic.
M. Noirtier was sitting in an arm-chair, which moved upon
casters, in which he was wheeled into the room in the morning, and
in the same way drawn out again at night. He was placed before a
large glass, which reflected the whole apartment, and so, without
any attempt to move, which would have been impossible, he could see
all who entered the room and everything which was going on around
him. M. Noirtier, although almost as immovable as a corpse, looked
at the newcomers with a quick and intelligent expression,
perceiving at once, by their ceremonious courtesy, that they were
come on business of an unexpected and official character. Sight and
hearing were the only senses remaining, and they, like two solitary
sparks, remained to animate the miserable body which seemed fit for
nothing but the grave; it was only, however, by means of one of
these senses that he could reveal the thoughts and feelings that
still occupied his mind, and the look by which he gave expression
to his inner life was like the distant gleam of a candle which a
traveller sees by night across some desert place, and knows that a
living being dwells beyond the silence and obscurity. Noirtier's
hair was long and white, and flowed over his shoulders; while in
his eyes, shaded by thick black lashes, was concentrated, as it
often happens with an organ which is used to the exclusion of the
others, all the activity, address, force, and intelligence which
were formerly diffused over his whole body; and so although thewere formerly diffused over his whole body; and so although the
movement of the arm, the sound of the voice, and the agility of the
body, were wanting, the speaking eye sufficed for all. He commanded
with it; it was the medium through which his thanks were conveyed.
In short, his whole appearance produced on the mind the impression
of a corpse with living eyes, and nothing could be more startling
than to observe the expression of anger or joy suddenly lighting up
these organs, while the rest of the rigid and marble-like features
were utterly deprived of the power of participation. Three persons
only could understand this language of the poor paralytic; these
were Villefort, Valentine, and the old servant of whom we have
already spoken. But as Villefort saw his father but seldom, and
then only when absolutely obliged, and as he never took any pains
to please or gratify him when he was there, all the old man's
happiness was centred in his granddaughter. Valentine, by means of
her love, her patience, and her devotion, had learned to read in
Noirtier's look all the varied feelings which were passing in his
mind. To this dumb language, which was so unintelligible to others,
she answered by throwing her whole soul into the expression of her
countenance, and in this manner were the conversations sustained
between the blooming girl and the helpless invalid, whose body
could scarcely be called a living one, but who, nevertheless,
possessed a fund of knowledge and penetration, united with a will
as powerful as ever although clogged by a body rendered utterly
incapable of obeying its impulses. Valentine had solved the
problem, and was able easily to understand his thoughts, and to
convey her own in return, and, through her untiring and devoted
assiduity, it was seldom that, in the ordinary transactions of
every-day life, she failed to anticipate the wishes of the living,
thinking mind, or the wants of the almost inanimate body. As to the
servant, he had, as we have said, been with his master for five and