Then the figure, from whom she could not detach her eyes, and who
appeared more protecting than menacing, took the glass, and walking
towards the night-light held it up, as if to test its transparency.
This did not seem sufficient; the man, or rather the ghost — for he
trod so softly that no sound was heard — then poured out about a
spoonful into the glass, and drank it. Valentine witnessed this
scene with a sentiment of stupefaction. Every minute she had
expected that it would vanish and give place to another vision; but
the man, instead of dissolving like a shadow, again approached her,
and said in an agitated voice, "Now you may drink."
Valentine shuddered. It was the first time one of these visions
had ever addressed her in a living voice, and she was about to
utter an exclamation. The man placed his finger on her lips. "The
Count of Monte Cristo!" she murmured.
It was easy to see that no doubt now remained in the young
girl's mind as to the reality of the scene; her eyes started with
terror, her hands trembled, and she rapidly drew the bedclothes
closer to her. Still, the presence of Monte Cristo at such an hour,
his mysterious, fanciful, and extraordinary entrance into her room
through the wall, might well seem impossibilities to her shattered
reason. "Do not call any one — do not be alarmed," said the Count;
"do not let a shade of suspicion or uneasiness remain in your
breast; the man standing before you, Valentine (for this time it is
no ghost), is nothing more than the tenderest father and the most
respectful friend you could dream of."
Valentine could not reply; the voice which indicated the real
presence of a being in the room, alarmed her so much that she
feared to utter a syllable; still the expression of her eyes seemed
to inquire, "If your intentions are pure, why are you here?" The
count's marvellous sagacity understood all that was passing in the
young girl's mind.
"Listen to me," he said, "or, rather, look upon me; look at my
face, paler even than usual, and my eyes, red with weariness — forface, paler even than usual, and my eyes, red with weariness — for
four days I have not closed them, for I have been constantly
watching you, to protect and preserve you for Maximilian." The
blood mounted rapidly to the cheeks of Valentine, for the name just
announced by the count dispelled all the fear with which his
presence had inspired her. "Maximilian!" she exclaimed, and so
sweet did the sound appear to her, that she repeated it —
"Maximilian! — has he then owned all to you?"
"Everything. He told me your life was his, and I have promised
him that you shall live."
"You have promised him that I shall live?"
"Yes."
"But, sir, you spoke of vigilance and protection. Are you a
doctor?"
"Yes; the best you could have at the present time, believe
me."
"But you say you have watched?" said Valentine uneasily; "where
have you been? — I have not seen you." The count extended his hand
towards the library. "I was hidden behind that door," he said,
"which leads into the next house, which I have rented." Valentine
turned her eyes away, and, with an indignant expression of pride
and modest fear, exclaimed: "Sir, I think you have been guilty of
an unparalleled intrusion, and that what you call protection is
more like an insult."
"Valentine," he answered, "during my long watch over you, all I
have observed has been what people visited you, what nourishment
was prepared, and what beverage was served; then, when the latter
appeared dangerous to me, I entered, as I have now done, and
substituted, in the place of the poison, a healthful draught;
which, instead of producing the death intended, caused life to
circulate in your veins."
"Poison — death!" exclaimed Valentine, half believing herself
under the influence of some feverish hallucination; "what are you
saying, sir?"
"Hush, my child," said Monte Cristo, again placing his finger
upon her lips, "I did say poison and death. But drink some of
this;" and the count took a bottle from his pocket, containing a
red liquid, of which he poured a few drops into the glass. "Drinkred liquid, of which he poured a few drops into the glass. "Drink
this, and then take nothing more to-night." Valentine stretched out
her hand, but scarcely had she touched the glass when she drew back
in fear. Monte Cristo took the glass, drank half its contents, and
then presented it to Valentine, who smiled and swallowed the rest.
"Oh, yes," she exclaimed, "I recognize the flavor of my nocturnal
beverage which refreshed me so much, and seemed to ease my aching
brain. Thank you, sir, thank you!"
"This is how you have lived during the last four nights,
Valentine," said the count. "But, oh, how I passed that time! Oh,
the wretched hours I have endured — the torture to which I have
submitted when I saw the deadly poison poured into your glass, and
how I trembled lest you should drink it before I could find time to
throw it away!"
"Sir," said Valentine, at the height of her terror, "you say you
endured tortures when you saw the deadly poison poured into my
glass; but if you saw this, you must also have seen the person who
poured it?"
"Yes." Valentine raised herself in bed, and drew over her chest,
which appeared whiter than snow, the embroidered cambric, still
moist with the cold dews of delirium, to which were now added those
of terror. "You saw the person?" repeated the young girl. "Yes,"
repeated the count.
"What you tell me is horrible, sir. You wish to make me believe
something too dreadful. What? — attempt to murder me in my father's
house, in my room, on my bed of sickness? Oh, leave me, sir; you
are tempting me — you make me doubt the goodness of providence — it
is impossible, it cannot be!"
"Are you the first that this hand has stricken? Have you not
seen M. de Saint-Meran, Madame de Saint-Meran, Barrois, all fall?
would not M. Noirtier also have fallen a victim, had not the
treatment he has been pursuing for the last three years neutralized
the effects of the poison?"
"Oh, heaven," said Valentine; "is this the reason why grandpapa
has made me share all his beverages during the last month?"