Monte Cristo, "can my suspicions be correct? Haidee, would it
please you not to leave me?"
"I am young," gently replied Haidee; "I love the life you have
made so sweet to me, and I should be sorry to die."
"You mean, then, that if I leave you, Haidee" —
"I should die; yes, my lord."
"Do you then love me?"
"Oh, Valentine, he asks if I love him. Valentine, tell him if
you love Maximilian." The count felt his heart dilate and throb; he
opened his arms, and Haidee, uttering a cry, sprang into them. "Oh,
yes," she cried, "I do love you! I love you as one loves a father,
brother, husband! I love you as my life, for you are the best, the
noblest of created beings!"
"Let it be, then, as you wish, sweet angel; God has sustained me
in my struggle with my enemies, and has given me this reward; he
will not let me end my triumph in suffering; I wished to punish
myself, but he has pardoned me. Love me then, Haidee! Who knows?
perhaps your love will make me forget all that I do not wish to
remember."
"What do you mean, my lord?"
"I mean that one word from you has enlightened me more than
twenty years of slow experience; I have but you in the world,
Haidee; through you I again take hold on life, through you I shall
suffer, through you rejoice."
"Do you hear him, Valentine?" exclaimed Haidee; "he says that
through me he will suffer — through me, who would yield my life for
his." The count withdrew for a moment. "Have I discovered the
truth?" he said; "but whether it be for recompense or punishment, I
accept my fate. Come, Haidee, come!" and throwing his arm around
the young girl's waist, he pressed the hand of Valentine, and
disappeared.
An hour had nearly passed, during which Valentine, breathless
and motionless, watched steadfastly over Morrel. At length she felt
his heart beat, a faint breath played upon his lips, a slight
shudder, announcing the return of life, passed through the young
man's frame. At length his eyes opened, but they were at first
fixed and expressionless; then sight returned, and with it feelingfixed and expressionless; then sight returned, and with it feeling
and grief. "Oh," he cried, in an accent of despair, "the count has
deceived me; I am yet living;" and extending his hand towards the
table, he seized a knife.
"Dearest," exclaimed Valentine, with her adorable smile, "awake,
and look at me!" Morrel uttered a loud exclamation, and frantic,
doubtful, dazzled, as though by a celestial vision, he fell upon
his knees.
The next morning at daybreak, Valentine and Morrel were walking
arm-in-arm on the sea-shore, Valentine relating how Monte Cristo
had appeared in her room, explained everything, revealed the crime,
and, finally, how he had saved her life by enabling her to simulate
death. They had found the door of the grotto opened, and gone
forth; on the azure dome of heaven still glittered a few remaining
stars. Morrel soon perceived a man standing among the rocks,
apparently awaiting a sign from them to advance, and pointed him
out to Valentine. "Ah, it is Jacopo," she said, "the captain of the
yacht;" and she beckoned him towards them.
"Do you wish to speak to us?" asked Morrel.
"I have a letter to give you from the count."
"From the count!" murmured the two young people.
"Yes; read it." Morrel opened the letter, and read: —
"My Dear Maximilian, —
"There is a felucca for you at anchor. Jacopo will carry you to
Leghorn, where Monsieur Noirtier awaits his granddaughter, whom he
wishes to bless before you lead her to the altar. All that is in
this grotto, my friend, my house in the Champs Elysees, and my
chateau at Treport, are the marriage gifts bestowed by Edmond
Dantes upon the son of his old master, Morrel. Mademoiselle de
Villefort will share them with you; for I entreat her to give to
the poor the immense fortune reverting to her from her father, now
a madman, and her brother who died last September with his mother.
Tell the angel who will watch over your future destiny, Morrel, to
pray sometimes for a man, who like Satan thought himself for anpray sometimes for a man, who like Satan thought himself for an
instant equal to God, but who now acknowledges with Christian
humility that God alone possesses supreme power and infinite
wisdom. Perhaps those prayers may soften the remorse he feels in
his heart. As for you, Morrel, this is the secret of my conduct
towards you. There is neither happiness nor misery in the world;
there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing
more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience
supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, Morrel,
that we may appreciate the enjoyments of living.
"Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and
never forget that until the day when God shall deign to reveal the
future to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words, —
`Wait and hope.' Your friend,
"Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte Cristo."
During the perusal of this letter, which informed Valentine for
the first time of the madness of her father and the death of her
brother, she became pale, a heavy sigh escaped from her bosom, and
tears, not the less painful because they were silent, ran down her
cheeks; her happiness cost her very dear. Morrel looked around
uneasily. "But," he said, "the count's generosity is too
overwhelming; Valentine will be satisfied with my humble fortune.
Where is the count, friend? Lead me to him." Jacopo pointed towards
the horizon. "What do you mean?" asked Valentine. "Where is the
count? — where is Haidee?"
"Look!" said Jacopo.
The eyes of both were fixed upon the spot indicated by the
sailor, and on the blue line separating the sky from the
Mediterranean Sea, they perceived a large white sail. "Gone," said
Morrel; "gone! — adieu, my friend — adieu, my father!"
"Gone," murmured Valentine; "adieu, my sweet Haidee — adieu, my
sister!"
"Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?" said Morrel
with tearful eyes.
"Darling," replied Valentine, "has not the count just told us
that all human wisdom is summed up in two words? — `Wait and
hope.'"