"I know it is very bitter," said Valentine; "so bitter, that all
I drink afterwards appears to have the same taste." Noirtier looked
inquiringly at his granddaughter. "Yes, grandpapa," said Valentine;
"it is so. Just now, before I came down to you, I drank a glass of
sugared water; I left half, because it seemed so bitter." Noirtier
turned pale, and made a sign that he wished to speak. Valentine
rose to fetch the dictionary. Noirtier watched her with evident
anguish. In fact, the blood was rushing to the young girl's head
already, her cheeks were becoming red. "Oh," cried she, without
losing any of her cheerfulness, "this is singular! I can't see! Did
the sun shine in my eyes?" And she leaned against the window.
"The sun is not shining," said Morrel, more alarmed by
Noirtier's expression than by Valentine's indisposition. He ran
towards her. The young girl smiled. "Cheer up," said she to
Noirtier. "Do not be alarmed, Maximilian; it is nothing, and has
already passed away. But listen! Do I not hear a carriage in the
court-yard?" She opened Noirtier's door, ran to a window in the
passage, and returned hastily. "Yes," said she, "it is Madame
Danglars and her daughter, who have come to call on us. Good-by; —
I must run away, for they would send here for me, or, rather,
farewell till I see you again. Stay with grandpapa, Maximilian; I
promise you not to persuade them to stay."
Morrel watched her as she left the room; he heard her ascend the
little staircase which led both to Madame de Villefort's apartments
and to hers. As soon as she was gone, Noirtier made a sign to
Morrel to take the dictionary. Morrel obeyed; guided by Valentine,
he had learned how to understand the old man quickly. Accustomed,
however, as he was to the work, he had to repeat most of the
letters of the alphabet and to find every word in the dictionary,
so that it was ten minutes before the thought of the old man was
translated by these words, "Fetch the glass of water and the
decanter from Valentine's room."translated by these words, "Fetch the glass of water and the
decanter from Valentine's room."
Morrel rang immediately for the servant who had taken Barrois's
situation, and in Noirtier's name gave that order. The servant soon
returned. The decanter and the glass were completely empty.
Noirtier made a sign that he wished to speak. "Why are the glass
and decanter empty?" asked he; "Valentine said she only drank half
the glassful." The translation of this new question occupied
another five minutes. "I do not know," said the servant, "but the
housemaid is in Mademoiselle Valentine's room: perhaps she has
emptied them."
"Ask her," said Morrel, translating Noirtier's thought this time
by his look. The servant went out, but returned almost immediately.
"Mademoiselle Valentine passed through the room to go to Madame de
Villefort's," said he; "and in passing, as she was thirsty, she
drank what remained in the glass; as for the decanter, Master
Edward had emptied that to make a pond for his ducks." Noirtier
raised his eyes to heaven, as a gambler does who stakes his all on
one stroke. From that moment the old man's eyes were fixed on the
door, and did not quit it.
It was indeed Madame Danglars and her daughter whom Valentine
had seen; they had been ushered into Madame de Villefort's room,
who had said she would receive them there. That is why Valentine
passed through her room, which was on a level with Valentine's, and
only separated from it by Edward's. The two ladies entered the
drawing-room with that sort of official stiffness which preludes a
formal communication. Among worldly people manner is contagious.
Madame de Villefort received them with equal solemnity. Valentine
entered at this moment, and the formalities were resumed. "My dear
friend," said the baroness, while the two young people were shaking
hands, "I and Eugenie are come to be the first to announce to you
the approaching marriage of my daughter with Prince Cavalcanti."
Danglars kept up the title of prince. The popular banker found thatDanglars kept up the title of prince. The popular banker found that
it answered better than count. "Allow me to present you my sincere
congratulations," replied Madame de Villefort. "Prince Cavalcanti
appears to be a young man of rare qualities."
"Listen," said the baroness, smiling; "speaking to you as a
friend I can say that the prince does not yet appear all he will
be. He has about him a little of that foreign manner by which
French persons recognize, at first sight, the Italian or German
nobleman. Besides, he gives evidence of great kindness of
disposition, much keenness of wit, and as to suitability, M.
Danglars assures me that his fortune is majestic — that is his
word."
"And then," said Eugenie, while turning over the leaves of
Madame de Villefort's album, "add that you have taken a great fancy
to the young man."
"And," said Madame de Villefort, "I need not ask you if you
share that fancy."
"I?" replied Eugenie with her usual candor. "Oh, not the least
in the world, madame! My wish was not to confine myself to domestic
cares, or the caprices of any man, but to be an artist, and
consequently free in heart, in person, and in thought." Eugenie
pronounced these words with so firm a tone that the color mounted
to Valentine's cheeks. The timid girl could not understand that
vigorous nature which appeared to have none of the timidities of
woman.
"At any rate," said she, "since I am to be married whether I
will or not, I ought to be thankful to providence for having
released me from my engagement with M. Albert de Morcerf, or I
should this day have been the wife of a dishonored man."
"It is true," said the baroness, with that strange simplicity
sometimes met with among fashionable ladies, and of which plebeian
intercourse can never entirely deprive them, — "it is very true
that had not the Morcerfs hesitated, my daughter would have married
Monsieur Albert. The general depended much on it; he even came to
force M. Danglars. We have had a narrow escape."
"But," said Valentine, timidly, "does all the father's shame