will be engaged to M. d'Epinay, for he came this morning to Paris."
Valentine uttered a cry.
"I was at the house of Monte Cristo an hour since," said Morrel;
"we were speaking, he of the sorrow your family had experienced,
and I of your grief, when a carriage rolled into the court-yard.
Never, till then, had I placed any confidence in presentiments, but
now I cannot help believing them, Valentine. At the sound of that
carriage I shuddered; soon I heard steps on the staircase, which
terrified me as much as the footsteps of the commander did Don
Juan. The door at last opened; Albert de Morcerf entered first, and
I began to hope my fears were vain, when, after him, another young
man advanced, and the count exclaimed — `Ah, here is the Baron
Franz d'Epinay!' I summoned all my strength and courage to my
support. Perhaps I turned pale and trembled, but certainly I
smiled; and five minutes after I left, without having heard one
word that had passed."
"Poor Maximilian!" murmured Valentine.
"Valentine, the time has arrived when you must answer me. And
remember my life depends on your answer. What do you intend doing?"
Valentine held down her head; she was overwhelmed.
"Listen," said Morrel; "it is not the first time you have
contemplated our present position, which is a serious and urgent
one; I do not think it is a moment to give way to useless sorrow;
leave that for those who like to suffer at their leisure and
indulge their grief in secret. There are such in the world, and God
will doubtless reward them in heaven for their resignation on
earth, but those who mean to contend must not lose one precious
moment, but must return immediately the blow which fortune strikes.
Do you intend to struggle against our ill-fortune? Tell me,
Valentine for it is that I came to know."
Valentine trembled, and looked at him with amazement. The idea
of resisting her father, her grandmother, and all the family, had
never occurred to her. "What do you say, Maximilian?" asked
Valentine. "What do you mean by a struggle? Oh, it would be aValentine. "What do you mean by a struggle? Oh, it would be a
sacrilege. What? I resist my father's order, and my dying
grandmother's wish? Impossible!" Morrel started. "You are too noble
not to understand me, and you understand me so well that you
already yield, dear Maximilian. No, no; I shall need all my
strength to struggle with myself and support my grief in secret, as
you say. But to grieve my father — to disturb my grandmother's last
moments — never!"
"You are right," said Morrel, calmly.
"In what a tone you speak!" cried Valentine.
"I speak as one who admires you, mademoiselle."
"Mademoiselle," cried Valentine; "mademoiselle! Oh, selfish man,
— he sees me in despair, and pretends he cannot understand me!"
"You mistake — I understand you perfectly. You will not oppose
M. Villefort, you will not displease the marchioness, and to-morrow
you will sign the contract which will bind you to your
husband."
"But, mon Dieu, tell me, how can I do otherwise?"
"Do not appeal to me, mademoiselle; I shall be a bad judge in
such a case; my selfishness will blind me," replied Morrel, whose
low voice and clinched hands announced his growing desperation.
"What would you have proposed, Maximilian, had you found me
willing to accede?"
"It is not for me to say."
"You are wrong; you must advise me what to do."
"Do you seriously ask my advice, Valentine?"
"Certainly, dear Maximilian, for if it is good, I will follow
it; you know my devotion to you."
"Valentine," said Morrel pushing aside a loose plank, "give me
your hand in token of forgiveness of my anger; my senses are
confused, and during the last hour the most extravagant thoughts
have passed through my brain. Oh, if you refuse my advice" —
"What do you advise?" said Valentine, raising her eyes to heaven
and sighing. "I am free," replied Maximilian, "and rich enough to
support you. I swear to make you my lawful wife before my lips even
shall have approached your forehead."
"You make me tremble!" said the young girl.shall have approached your forehead."
"You make me tremble!" said the young girl.
"Follow me," said Morrel; "I will take you to my sister, who is
worthy also to be yours. We will embark for Algiers, for England,
for America, or, if your prefer it, retire to the country and only
return to Paris when our friends have reconciled your family."
Valentine shook her head. "I feared it, Maximilian," said she; "it
is the counsel of a madman, and I should be more mad than you, did
I not stop you at once with the word `Impossible, impossible!'"
"You will then submit to what fate decrees for you without even
attempting to contend with it?" said Morrel sorrowfully. "Yes, — if
I die!"
"Well, Valentine," resumed Maximilian, "I can only say again
that you are right. Truly, it is I who am mad, and you prove to me
that passion blinds the most well-meaning. I appreciate your calm
reasoning. It is then understood that to-morrow you will be
irrevocably promised to M. Franz d'Epinay, not only by that
theatrical formality invented to heighten the effect of a comedy
called the signature of the contract, but your own will?"
"Again you drive me to despair, Maximilian," said Valentine,
"again you plunge the dagger into the wound! What would you do,
tell me, if your sister listened to such a proposition?"
"Mademoiselle," replied Morrel with a bitter smile, "I am
selfish — you have already said so — and as a selfish man I think
not of what others would do in my situation, but of what I intend
doing myself. I think only that I have known you not a whole year.
From the day I first saw you, all my hopes of happiness have been
in securing your affection. One day you acknowledged that you loved
me, and since that day my hope of future happiness has rested on
obtaining you, for to gain you would be life to me. Now, I think no
more; I say only that fortune has turned against me — I had thought
to gain heaven, and now I have lost it. It is an every-day
occurrence for a gambler to lose not only what he possesses but