he, "I must be dreaming! It is frightful to hear such things from
such a man as you! Tell me, I entreat you, my dear doctor, that you
may be deceived."
"Doubtless I may, but" —
"But?"
"But I do not think so."
"Have pity on me doctor! So many dreadful things have happened
to me lately that I am on the verge of madness."
"Has any one besides me seen Madame de Saint-Meran?"
"No."
"Has anything been sent for from a chemist's that I have not
examined?"
"Nothing."
"Had Madame de Saint-Meran any enemies?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Would her death affect any one's interest?"
"It could not indeed, my daughter is her only heiress —
Valentine alone. Oh, if such a thought could present itself, I
would stab myself to punish my heart for having for one instant
harbored it."
"Indeed, my dear friend," said M. d'Avrigny, "I would not accuse
any one; I speak only of an accident, you understand, — of a
mistake, — but whether accident or mistake, the fact is there; it
is on my conscience and compels me to speak aloud to you. Make
inquiry."
"Of whom? — how? — of what?"
"May not Barrois, the old servant, have made a mistake, and have
given Madame de Saint-Meran a dose prepared for his master?"
"For my father?"
"Yes."
"But how could a dose prepared for M. Noirtier poison Madame de
Saint-Meran?"
"Nothing is more simple. You know poisons become remedies in
certain diseases, of which paralysis is one. For instance, having
tried every other remedy to restore movement and speech to M.
Noirtier, I resolved to try one last means, and for three months I
have been giving him brucine; so that in the last dose I ordered
for him there were six grains. This quantity, which is perfectly
safe to administer to the paralyzed frame of M. Noirtier, which has
become gradually accustomed to it, would be sufficient to kill
another person."
"My dear doctor, there is no communication between M. Noirtier's
apartment and that of Madame de Saint-Meran, and Barrois never
entered my mother-in-law's room. In short, doctor although I knowentered my mother-in-law's room. In short, doctor although I know
you to be the most conscientious man in the world, and although I
place the utmost reliance in you, I want, notwithstanding my
conviction, to believe this axiom, errare humanum est."
"Is there one of my brethren in whom you have equal confidence
with myself?"
"Why do you ask me that? — what do you wish?"
"Send for him; I will tell him what I have seen, and we will
consult together, and examine the body."
"And you will find traces of poison?"
"No, I did not say of poison, but we can prove what was the
state of the body; we shall discover the cause of her sudden death,
and we shall say, `Dear Villefort, if this thing has been caused by
negligence, watch over your servants; if from hatred, watch your
enemies.'"
"What do you propose to me, d'Avrigny?" said Villefort in
despair; "so soon as another is admitted into our secret, an
inquest will become necessary; and an inquest in my house —
impossible! Still," continued the procureur, looking at the doctor
with uneasiness, "if you wish it — if you demand it, why then it
shall be done. But, doctor, you see me already so grieved — how can
I introduce into my house so much scandal, after so much sorrow? My
wife and my daughter would die of it! And I, doctor — you know a
man does not arrive at the post I occupy — one has not been king's
attorney twenty-five years without having amassed a tolerable
number of enemies; mine are numerous. Let this affair be talked of,
it will be a triumph for them, which will make them rejoice, and
cover me with shame. Pardon me, doctor, these worldly ideas; were
you a priest I should not dare tell you that, but you are a man,
and you know mankind. Doctor, pray recall your words; you have said
nothing, have you?"
"My dear M. de Villefort," replied the doctor, "my first duty is
to humanity. I would have saved Madame de Saint-Meran, if science
could have done it; but she is dead and my duty regards the living.
Let us bury this terrible secret in the deepest recesses of ourLet us bury this terrible secret in the deepest recesses of our
hearts; I am willing, if any one should suspect this, that my
silence on the subject should be imputed to my ignorance.
Meanwhile, sir, watch always — watch carefully, for perhaps the
evil may not stop here. And when you have found the culprit, if you
find him, I will say to you, `You are a magistrate, do as you
will!'"
"I thank you, doctor," said Villefort with indescribable joy; "I
never had a better friend than you." And, as if he feared Doctor
d'Avrigny would recall his promise, he hurried him towards the
house.
When they were gone, Morrel ventured out from under the trees,
and the moon shone upon his face, which was so pale it might have
been taken for that of a ghost. "I am manifestly protected in a
most wonderful, but most terrible manner," said he; "but Valentine,
poor girl, how will she bear so much sorrow?"
As he thought thus, he looked alternately at the window with red
curtains and the three windows with white curtains. The light had
almost disappeared from the former; doubtless Madame de Villefort
had just put out her lamp, and the nightlamp alone reflected its
dull light on the window. At the extremity of the building, on the
contrary, he saw one of the three windows open. A wax-light placed
on the mantle-piece threw some of its pale rays without, and a
shadow was seen for one moment on the balcony. Morrel shuddered; he
thought he heard a sob.
It cannot be wondered at that his mind, generally so courageous,
but now disturbed by the two strongest human passions, love and
fear, was weakened even to the indulgence of superstitious
thoughts. Although it was impossible that Valentine should see him,
hidden as he was, he thought he heard the shadow at the window call
him; his disturbed mind told him so. This double error became an
irresistible reality, and by one of the incomprehensible transports
of youth, he bounded from his hiding-place, and with two strides,
at the risk of being seen, at the risk of alarming Valentine, at