d'Avrigny, "swear that you will spare the honor of my house, and
leave me to avenge my child." D'Avrigny turned round and uttered a
very feeble "Yes," but Morrel, disengaging his hand, rushed to the
bed, and after having pressed the cold lips of Valentine with his
own, hurriedly left, uttering a long, deep groan of despair and
anguish. We have before stated that all the servants had fled. M.
de Villefort was therefore obliged to request M. d'Avrigny to
superintend all the arrangements consequent upon a death in a large
city, more especially a death under such suspicious
circumstances.
It was something terrible to witness the silent agony, the mute
despair of Noirtier, whose tears silently rolled down his cheeks.
Villefort retired to his study, and d'Avrigny left to summon the
doctor of the mayoralty, whose office it is to examine bodies after
decease, and who is expressly named "the doctor of the dead." M.
Noirtier could not be persuaded to quit his grandchild. At the end
of a quarter of an hour M. d'Avrigny returned with his associate;
they found the outer gate closed, and not a servant remaining in
the house; Villefort himself was obliged to open to them. But he
stopped on the landing; he had not the courage to again visit the
death chamber. The two doctors, therefore, entered the room alone.
Noirtier was near the bed, pale, motionless, and silent as the
corpse. The district doctor approached with the indifference of a
man accustomed to spend half his time amongst the dead; he then
lifted the sheet which was placed over the face, and just unclosed
the lips.
"Alas," said d'Avrigny, "she is indeed dead, poor child!"
"Yes," answered the doctor laconically, dropping the sheet he
had raised. Noirtier uttered a kind of hoarse, rattling sound; the
old man's eyes sparkled, and the good doctor understood that he
wished to behold his child. He therefore approached the bed, and
while his companion was dipping the fingers with which he had
touched the lips of the corpse in chloride of lime, he uncoveredtouched the lips of the corpse in chloride of lime, he uncovered
the calm and pale face, which looked like that of a sleeping angel.
A tear, which appeared in the old man's eye, expressed his thanks
to the doctor. The doctor of the dead then laid his permit on the
corner of the table, and having fulfilled his duty, was conducted
out by d'Avrigny. Villefort met them at the door of his study;
having in a few words thanked the district doctor, he turned to
d'Avrigny, and said, — "And now the priest."
"Is there any particular priest you wish to pray with
Valentine?" asked d'Avrigny.
"No." said Villefort; "fetch the nearest."
"The nearest," said the district doctor, "is a good Italian
abbe, who lives next door to you. Shall I call on him as I
pass?"
"D'Avrigny," said Villefort, "be so kind, I beseech you, as to
accompany this gentleman. Here is the key of the door, so that you
can go in and out as you please; you will bring the priest with
you, and will oblige me by introducing him into my child's
room."
"Do you wish to see him?"
"I only wish to be alone. You will excuse me, will you not? A
priest can understand a father's grief." And M. de Villefort,
giving the key to d'Avrigny, again bade farewell to the strange
doctor, and retired to his study, where he began to work. For some
temperaments work is a remedy for all afflictions. As the doctors
entered the street, they saw a man in a cassock standing on the
threshold of the next door. "This is the abbe of whom I spoke,"
said the doctor to d'Avrigny. D'Avrigny accosted the priest. "Sir,"
he said, "are you disposed to confer a great obligation on an
unhappy father who has just lost his daughter? I mean M. de
Villefort, the king's attorney."
"Ah," said the priest, in a marked Italian accent; "yes, I have
heard that death is in that house."
"Then I need not tell you what kind of service he requires of
you."
"I was about to offer myself, sir," said the priest; "it is our
mission to forestall our duties."
"It is a young girl."mission to forestall our duties."
"It is a young girl."
"I know it, sir; the servants who fled from the house informed
me. I also know that her name is Valentine, and I have already
prayed for her."
"Thank you, sir," said d'Avrigny; "since you have commenced your
sacred office, deign to continue it. Come and watch by the dead,
and all the wretched family will be grateful to you."
"I am going, sir; and I do not hesitate to say that no prayers
will be more fervent than mine." D'Avrigny took the priest's hand,
and without meeting Villefort, who was engaged in his study, they
reached Valentine's room, which on the following night was to be
occupied by the undertakers. On entering the room, Noirtier's eyes
met those of the abbe, and no doubt he read some particular
expression in them, for he remained in the room. D'Avrigny
recommended the attention of the priest to the living as well as to
the dead, and the abbe promised to devote his prayers to Valentine
and his attentions to Noirtier. In order, doubtless, that he might
not be disturbed while fulfilling his sacred mission, the priest
rose as soon as d'Avrigny departed, and not only bolted the door
through which the doctor had just left, but also that leading to
Madame de Villefort's room.M. de Boville had indeed met the funeral procession which was
taking Valentine to her last home on earth. The weather was dull
and stormy, a cold wind shook the few remaining yellow leaves from
the boughs of the trees, and scattered them among the crowd which
filled the boulevards. M. de Villefort, a true Parisian, considered
the cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise alone worthy of receiving the mortal
remains of a Parisian family; there alone the corpses belonging to
him would be surrounded by worthy associates. He had therefore
purchased a vault, which was quickly occupied by members of his
family. On the front of the monument was inscribed: "The families
of Saint-Meran and Villefort," for such had been the last wish
expressed by poor Renee, Valentine's mother. The pompous procession
therefore wended its way towards Pere-la-Chaise from the Faubourg
Saint-Honore. Having crossed Paris, it passed through the Faubourg
du Temple, then leaving the exterior boulevards, it reached the
cemetery. More than fifty private carriages followed the twenty
mourning-coaches, and behind them more than five hundred persons
joined in the procession on foot.
These last consisted of all the young people whom Valentine's
death had struck like a thunderbolt, and who, notwithstanding the
raw chilliness of the season, could not refrain from paying a last
tribute to the memory of the beautiful, chaste, and adorable girl,
thus cut off in the flower of her youth. As they left Paris, an
equipage with four horses, at full speed, was seen to draw up
suddenly; it contained Monte Cristo. The count left the carriage
and mingled in the crowd who followed on foot. Chateau-Renaud
perceived him and immediately alighting from his coupe, joined
him.
The count looked attentively through every opening in the crowd;
he was evidently watching for some one, but his search ended in
disappointment. "Where is Morrel?" he asked; "do either of these
gentlemen know where he is?"
"We have already asked that question," said Chateau-Renaud, "for