A GLOOMY SCENE had indeed just passed at the house of M. de Villefort. After the ladies had departed for the ball, whither all the entreaties of Madame de Villefort had failed in persuading him to accompany them, the procureur had shut himself up in his study, according to his custom. with a heap of papers calculated to alarm any one else, but which generally scarcely satisfied his inordinate desires. But this time the papers were a mere matter of form. Villefort had secluded himself, not to study, but to reflect; and with the door locked and orders given that he should not be disturbed excepting for important business, he sat down in his arm-chair and began to ponder over the events, the remembrance of which had during the last eight days filled his mind with so many gloomy thoughts and bitter recollections. Then, instead of plunging into the mass of documents piled before him, he opened the drawer of his desk. touched a spring, and drew out a parcel of cherished memoranda, amongst which he had carefully arranged, in characters only known to himself, the names of all those who, either in his political career, in money matters, at the bar, or in his mysterious love affairs, had become his enemies.
Their number was formidable, now that he had begun to fear, and yet these names, powerful though they were, had often caused him to smile with the same kind of satisfaction experienced by a traveller who from the summit of a mountain beholds at his feet the craggy eminences, the almost impassable paths, and the fearful chasms, through which he has so perilously climbed. When he had run over all these names in his memory, again read and studied them, commenting meanwhile upon his lists, he shook his head.
"No," he murmured, "none of my enemies would have waited so patiently and laboriously for so long a space of time, that they might now come and crush me with this secret. Sometimes, as Hamlet says--
'Foul deeds will rise, Tho, all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes;'
but, like a phosphoric light, they rise but to mislead. The story has been told by the Corsican to some priest, who in his turn has repeated it. M. de Monte Cristo may have heard it, and to enlighten himself--but why should he wish to enlighten himself upon the subject?" asked Villefort, after a moment's reflection, "what interest can this M. de Monte Cristo or M. Zaccone,--son of a shipowner of Malta, discoverer of a mine in Thessaly, now visiting Paris for the first time,--what interest, I say, can he take in discovering a gloomy, mysterious, and useless fact like this? However, among all the incoherent details given to me by the Abbé Busoni and by Lord Wilmore, by that friend and that enemy, one thing appears certain and clear in my opinion--that in no period, in no case, in no circumstance, could there have been any contact between him and me."
But Villefort uttered words which even he himself did not believe. He dreaded not so much the revelation, for he could reply to or deny its truth;--he cared little for that mene, tekel, upharsin, which appeared suddenly in letters of blood upon the wall;--but what he was really anxious for was to discover whose hand had traced them. While he was endeavoring to calm his fears,--and instead of dwelling upon the political future that had so often been the subject of his ambitious dreams, was imagining a future limited to the enjoyments of home, in fear of awakening the enemy that had so long slept,--the noise of a carriage sounded in the yard, then he heard the steps of an aged person ascending the stairs, followed by tears and lamentations, such as servants always give vent to when they wish to appear interested in their master's grief. He drew back the bolt of his door, and almost directly an old lady entered, unannounced, carrying her shawl on her arm, and her bonnet in her hand. The white hair was thrown back from her yellow forehead, and her eyes, already sunken by the furrows of age, now almost disappeared beneath the eyelids swollen with grief. "Oh, sir," she said; "oh, sir, what a misfortune! I shall die of it; oh, yes, I shall certainly die of it!"
And then, falling upon the chair nearest the door, she burst into a paroxysm of sobs. The servants, standing in the doorway, not daring to approach nearer, were looking at Noirtier's old servant, who had heard the noise from his master's room, and run there also, remaining behind the others. Villefort rose, and ran towards his mother-in-law, for it was she.
"Why, what can have happened?" he exclaimed, "what has thus disturbed you? Is M. de Saint-Méran with you?"
"M. de Saint-Méran is dead," answered the old marchioness, without preface and without expression; she appeared to be stupefied. Villefort drew back, and clasping his hands together, exclaimed--"Dead!--so suddenly?"
"A week ago," continued Madame de Saint-Méran, "we went out together in the carriage after dinner. M. de Saint-Méran had been unwell for some days; still, the idea of seeing our dear Valentine again inspired him with courage, and notwithstanding his illness he would leave. At six leagues from Marseilles, after having eaten some of the lozenges he is accustomed to take, he fell into such a deep sleep, that it appeared to me unnatural; still I hesitated to wake him, although I fancied that his face was flushed, and that the veins of his temples throbbed more violently than usual. However, as it became dark, and I could no longer see, I fell asleep; I was soon aroused by a piercing shriek, as from a person suffering in his dreams, and he suddenly threw his head back violently. I called the valet, I stopped the postilion, I spoke to M. de Saint-Méran, I applied my smelling-salts; but all was over, and I arrived at Aix by the side of a corpse." Villefort stood with his mouth half open, quite stupefied.
"Of course you sent for a doctor?"
"Immediately; but, as I have told you, it was too late."
"Yes; but then he could tell of what complaint the poor marquis had died."
"Oh, yes, sir, he told me; it appears to have been an apoplectic stroke."
"And what did you do then?"
"M. de Saint-Méran had always expressed a desire, in case his death happened during his absence from Paris, that his body might be brought to the family vault. I had him put into a leaden coffin, and I am preceding him by a few days."
"Oh, my poor mother," said Villefort, "to have such duties to perform at your age after such a blow!"
"God has supported me through all; and then, my dear marquis, he would certainly have done everything for me that I performed for him. It is true that since I left him, I seem to have lost my senses. I cannot cry; at my age they say that we have no more tears,--still I think that when one is in trouble one should have the power of weeping. Where is Valentine. sir? It is on her account I am here; I wish to see Valentine." Villefort thought it would be terrible to reply that Valentine was at a ball; so he only said that she had gone out with her step-mother, and that she should be fetched. "This instant, sir--this instant, I beseech you!" said the old lady. Villefort placed the arm of Madame de Saint-Méran within his own, and conducted her to his apartment. "Rest yourself, mother," he said.
The marchioness raised her head at this word, and beholding the man who so forcibly reminded her of her deeply-regretted child, who still lived for her in Valentine, she felt touched at the name of mother, and bursting into tears, she fell on her knees before an arm-chair, where she buried her venerable head. Villefort left her to the care of the women, while old Barrois ran, half-scared, to his master; for nothing frightens old people so much as when death relaxes its vigilance over them for a moment in order to strike some other old person. Then, while Madame de Saint-Méran remained on her knees, praying fervently, Villefort sent for a cab, and went himself to fetch his wife and daughter from Madame de Morcerf's. He was so pale when he appeared at the door of the ball-room, that Valentine ran to him, saying--
"Oh, father, some misfortune has happened!"
"Your grandmamma has just arrived, Valentine," said M. de Villefort.
"And grandpapa?" inquired the young girl, trembling with apprehension. M. de Villefort only replied by offering his arm to his daughter. It was just in time, for Valentine's head swam, and she staggered; Madame de Villefort instantly hastened to her assistance, and aided her husband in dragging her to the carriage, saying--"What a singular event! Who could have thought it? Ah, yes, it is indeed strange!" And the wretched family departed, leaving a cloud of sadness hanging over the rest of the evening. At the foot of the stairs, Valentine found Barrois awaiting her.
"M. Noirtier wishes to see you to-night, he said, in an undertone.
"Tell him I will come when I leave my dear grandmamma," she replied, feeling, with true delicacy, that the person to whom she could be of the most service just then was Madame de Saint-Méran. Valentine found her grandmother in bed; silent caresses, heartwrung sobs, broken sighs, burning tears, were all that passed in this sad interview, while Madame de Villefort, leaning on her husband's arm, maintained all outward forms of respect, at least towards the poor widow. She soon whispered to her husband, "I think it would be better for me to retire, with your permission, for the sight of me appears still to afflict your mother-in-law." Madame de Saint-Méran heard her. "Yes, yes," she said softly to Valentine, "let her leave; but do you stay." Madame de Villefort left, and Valentine remained alone beside the bed, for the procureur, overcome with astonishment at the unexpected death, had followed his wife. Meanwhile, Barrois had returned for the first time to old Noirtier, who having heard the noise in the house, had, as we have said, sent his old servant to inquire the cause; on his return, his quick intelligent eye interrogated the messenger. "Alas, sir," exclaimed Barrois, "a great misfortune has happened. Madame de Saint-Méran has arrived, and her husband is dead!"
M. de Saint-Méran and Noirtier had never been on strict terms of friendship; still, the death of one old man always considerably affects another. Noirtier let his head fall upon his chest, apparently overwhelmed and thoughtful; then he closed one eye, in token of inquiry. "Mademoiselle Valentine?" Noirtier nodded his head. "She is at the ball, as you know, since she came to say good-by to you in full dress." Noirtier again closed his left eye. "Do you wish to see her?" Noirtier again made an affirmative sign. "Well, they have gone to fetch her, no doubt, from Madame de Morcerf's; I will await her return, and beg her to come up here. Is that what you wish for?"
"Yes," replied the invalid.
Barrois, therefore, as we have seen, watched for Valentine, and informed her of her grandfather's wish. Consequently, Valentine came up to Noirtier, on leaving Madame de Saint-Méran, who in the midst of her grief had at last yielded to fatigue and fallen into a feverish sleep. Within reach of her hand they placed a small table upon which stood a bottle of orangeade, her usual beverage, and a glass. Then, as we have said, the young girl left the bedside to see M. Noirtier. Valentine kissed the old man, who looked at her with such tenderness that her eyes again filled with tears, whose sources he thought must be exhausted. The old gentleman continued to dwell upon her with the same expression. "Yes, yes," said Valentine, "you mean that I have yet a kind grandfather left, do you not." The old man intimated that such was his meaning. "Ah, yes, happily I have," replied Valentine. "Without that, what would become of me?"
It was one o'clock in the morning. Barrois, who wished to go to bed himself, observed that after such sad events every one stood in need of rest. Noirtier would not say that the only rest he needed was to see his child, but wished her good-night, for grief and fatigue had made her appear quite ill. The next morning she found her grandmother in bed; the fever had not abated, on the contrary her eyes glistened and she appeared to be suffering from violent nervous irritability. "Oh, dear grandmamma, are you worse?" exclaimed Valentine, perceiving all these signs of agitation.
"No, my child, no," said Madame de Saint-Méran; "but I was impatiently waiting for your arrival, that I might send for your father."
"My father?" inquired Valentine, uneasily.
"Yes, I wish to speak to him." Valentine durst not oppose her grandmother's wish, the cause of which she did not know, and an instant afterwards Villefort entered. "Sir," said Madame de Saint-Méran, without using any circumlocution, and as if fearing she had no time to lose, "you wrote to me concerning the marriage of this child?"
"Yes, madame," replied Villefort, "it is not only projected but arranged."
"Your intended son-in-law is named M. Franz d'Epinay?"
"Yes, madame."
"Is he not the son of General d'Epinay who was on our side, and who was assassinated some days before the usurper returned from the Island of Elba?"
"The same."
"Does he not dislike the idea of marrying the granddaughter of a Jacobin?"
"Our civil dissensions are now happily extinguished, mother," said Villefort; "M. d'Epinay was quite a child when his father died, he knows very little of M. Noirtier, and will meet him, if not with pleasure, at least with indifference."
"Is it a suitable match?"
"In every respect."
"And the young man?"
"Is regarded with universal esteem."
"You approve of him?"
"He is one of the most well-bred young men I know." During the whole of this conversation Valentine had remained silent. "Well, sir," said Madame de Saint-Méran, after a few minutes' reflection, "I must hasten the marriage, for I have but a short time to live."
"You, madame?" "You, dear mamma?" exclaimed M. de Villefort and Valentine at the same time.
"I know what I am saying," continued the marchioness; "I must hurry you, so that, as she has no mother, she may at least have a grandmother to bless her marriage. I am all that is left to her belonging to my poor Renée, whom you have so soon forgotten, sir."
"Ah, madame," said Villefort, "you forget that I was obliged to give a mother to my child."
"A stepmother is never a mother, sir. But this is not to the purpose,--our business concerns Valentine, let us leave the dead in peace."
All this was said with such exceeding rapidity, that there was something in the conversation that seemed like the beginning of delirium.
"It shall be as you wish, madame," said Villefort; "more especially since your wishes coincide with mine, and as soon as M. d'Epinay arrives in Paris"--
"My dear grandmother," interrupted Valentine, "consider decorum--the recent death. You would not have me marry under such sad auspices?"
"My child," exclaimed the old lady sharply, "let us hear none of the conventional objections that deter weak minds from preparing for the future. I also was married at the death-bed of my mother, and certainly I have not been less happy on that account."
"Still that idea of death, madame," said Villefort.
"Still?--Always! I tell you I am going to die--do you understand? Well, before dying, I wish to see my son-in-law. I wish to tell him to make my child happy; I wish to read in his eyes whether he intends to obey me;--in fact, I will know him--I will!" continued the old lady, with a fearful expression, "that I may rise from the depths of my grave to find him, if he should not fulfil his duty!"
"Madame," said Villefort, "you must lay aside these exalted ideas, which almost assume the appearance of madness. The dead, once buried in their graves, rise no more."
"And I tell you, sir, that you are mistaken. This night I have had a fearful sleep. It seemed as though my soul were already hovering over my body, my eyes, which I tried to open, closed against my will, and what will appear impossible above all to you, sir, I saw, with my eyes shut, in the spot where you are now standing, issuing from that corner where there is a door leading into Madame Villefort's dressing-room--I saw, I tell you, silently enter, a white figure." Valentine screamed. "It was the fever that disturbed you, madame," said Villefort.
"Doubt, if you please, but I am sure of what I say. I saw a white figure, and as if to prevent my discrediting the testimony of only one of my senses, I heard my glass removed--the same which is there now on the table."
"Oh, dear mother, it was a dream."
"So little was it a dream, that I stretched my hand towards the bell; but when I did so, the shade disappeared; my maid then entered with a light."
"But she saw no one?"
"Phantoms are visible to those only who ought to see them. It was the soul of my husband!--Well, if my husband's soul can come to me, why should not my soul reappear to guard my granddaughter? the tie is even more direct, it seems to me."
"Oh, madame," said Villefort, deeply affected, in spite of himself, "do not yield to those gloomy thoughts; you will long live with us, happy, loved, and honored, and we will make you forget"--
"Never, never, never," said the marchioness. "when does M. d'Epinay return?"
"We expect him every moment."
"It is well. As soon as he arrives inform me. We must be expeditious. And then I also wish to see a notary, that I may be assured that all our property returns to Valentine."
"Ah, grandmamma," murmured Valentine, pressing her lips on the burning brow, "do you wish to kill me? Oh, how feverish you are; we must not send for a notary, but for a doctor."
"A doctor?" said she, shrugging her shoulders, "I am not ill; I am thirsty--that is all."
"What are you drinking, dear grandmamma?"
"The same as usual, my dear, my glass is there on the table--give it to me, Valentine." Valentine poured the orangeade into a glass and gave it to her grandmother with a certain degree of dread, for it was the same glass she fancied that had been touched by the spectre. The marchioness drained the glass at a single draught, and then turned on her pillow, repeating,--"The notary, the notary!"
M. de Villefort left the room, and Valentine seated herself at the bedside of her grandmother. The poor child appeared herself to require the doctor she had recommended to her aged relative. A bright spot burned in either cheek, her respiration was short and difficult, and her pulse beat with feverish excitement. She was thinking of the despair of Maximilian, when he should be informed that Madame de Saint-Méran, instead of being an ally, was unconsciously acting as his enemy. More than once she thought of revealing all to her grandmother, and she would not have hesitated a moment, if Maximilian Morrel had been named Albert de Morcerf or Raoul de Chateau-Renaud; but Morrel was of plebeian extraction, and Valentine knew how the haughty Marquise de Saint-Méran despised all who were not noble. Her secret had each time been repressed when she was about to reveal it, by the sad conviction that it would be useless to do so; for, were it once discovered by her father and mother, all would be lost. Two hours passed thus; Madame de Saint-Méran was in a feverish sleep, and the notary had arrived. Though his coming was announced in a very low tone, Madame de Saint-Méran arose from her pillow. "The notary!" she exclaimed, "let him come in."
The notary, who was at the door, immediately entered. "Go, Valentine," said Madame de Saint-Méran, "and leave me with this gentleman." "But, grandmamma"--
"Leave me--go!" The young girl kissed her grandmother, and left with her handkerchief to her eyes; at the door she found the valet de chambre, who told her that the doctor was waiting in the dining-room. Valentine instantly ran down. The doctor was a friend of the family, and at the same time one of the cleverest men of the day, and very fond of Valentine, whose birth he had witnessed. He had himself a daughter about her age, but whose life was one continued source of anxiety and fear to him from her mother having been consumptive.
"Oh," said Valentine, "we have been waiting for you with such impatience, dear M. d'Avrigny. But, first of all, how are Madeleine and Antoinette?" Madeleine was the daughter of M. d'Avrigny, and Antoinette his niece. M. d'Avrigny smiled sadly. "Antoinette is very well," he said, "and Madeleine tolerably so. But you sent for me, my dear child. It is not your father or Madame de Villefort who is ill. As for you, although we doctors cannot divest our patients of nerves, I fancy you have no further need of me than to recommend you not to allow your imagination to take too wide a field." Valentine colored. M. d'Avrigny carried the science of divination almost to a miraculous extent, for he was one of the physicians who always work upon the body through the mind. "No," she replied, "it is for my poor grandmother. You know the calamity that has happened to us, do you not?"
"I know nothing." said M. d'Avrigny.
"Alas," said Valentine, restraining her tears, "my grandfather is dead."
"M. de Saint-Méran?"
"Yes."
"Suddenly?"
"From an apoplectic stroke."
"An apoplectic stroke?" repeated the doctor.
"Yes, and my poor grandmother fancies that her husband, whom she never left, has called her, and that she must go and join him. Oh, M. d'Avrigny, I beseech you, do something for her!"
"Where is she?"
"In her room with the notary."
"And M. Noirtier?"
"Just as he was, his mind perfectly clear, but the same incapability of moving or speaking."
"And the same love for you--eh, my dear child?"
"Yes," said Valentine, "he was very fond of me."
"Who does not love you?" Valentine smiled sadly. "What are your grandmother's symptoms?"
"An extreme nervous excitement and a strangely agitated sleep; she fancied this morning in her sleep that her soul was hovering above her body, which she at the same time watched. It must have been delirium; she fancies, too, that she saw a phantom enter her chamber and even heard the noise it made on touching her glass."
"It is singular," said the doctor; "I was not aware that Madame de Saint-Méran was subject to such hallucinations."
"It is the first time I ever saw her in this condition," said Valentine; "and this morning she frightened me so that I thought her mad; and my father, who you know is a strong-minded man, himself appeared deeply impressed."
"We will go and see," said the doctor; "what you tell me seems very strange." The notary here descended, and Valentine was informed that her grandmother was alone. "Go upstairs," she said to the doctor.
"And you?"
维尔福先生的家里的确刚刚发生了一幕悲惨的场景。太太和小姐已经去参加跳舞会去了，维尔福夫人虽曾竭力劝她的丈夫和她们同去，但她的请求没有成功，检察官还是照常把他自己关在书房里，面前堆着一大叠文件，这一堆文件谁看了都会发怵，但通常还是难于满足他那强烈的工作欲。可是这一次，这些文件只是形式而已。维尔福静处的目的不是为了工作而是在反省。门已经关上，他已吩咐仆人，除非有特别重要的事情。不许来打扰他。门关上以后他在圈椅里坐下来，开始细细地思索这一星期来的事情，累得他神魂不安，始终痛苦地在他的头脑里萦回不息的这些事情。他并不去碰他面前的那个文件堆，却打开写字台的抽屉，按下暗钮，拿出一包宝贵的文件，这包文件整理得很仔细，编着只有他自己知道的号码，里面所载的是人名和私人笔记，都是关于他在政治、金钱事务上、法庭上以及他那些神秘的恋爱事件上的仇人的记录。他们的数目现在已达到惊人的地步，他开始有点害怕起来，但这些名字虽然曾经显赫一时，却也常常使他满意地微笑，象是一个旅客在到达顶峰以后，回头俯视脚下那些曾让他惊恐万状的嵯峨的峰峦、可怕的岩崖以及几乎无法通过的狭径。他记忆里把所有这些名字默诵了一遍，又参照名单上的记载重读一遍，研究了一番，他摇摇头。“不！”
他喃喃地说，“我的敌人没有哪一个会辛辛苦苦地耐着性子等这么久的时间，等到现在才用这个秘密来压垮我。有时候，正如哈姆雷特所说的：事实总会升起到人们的眼前，即使用全世界的泥土压住它也是枉然。
但是，象一团磷火一样，它虽然升起来，但却会引人走入迷途。那个科西嘉人大概曾把这个故事告诉某个教士，那个教士又对别人讲了。基督山也许从旁人口里听到过，而为了探明真相，但他为什么要探明这件事情的真相呢？”维尔福先生在思索了一会儿以后，这样自问。“这和这位基督山先生或柴康先生有什么关系呢？他是一个马耳他船商的儿子，曾在塞萨利发现一个银矿，是第一次来巴黎访问。他为什么要查究这样一件悲惨、神秘和无用的事实呢？布沙尼长老和威玛勋爵——他的朋友和他的仇人——所给我的各种消息虽不完全相同，但据我看来，有一点是可以明确地断定的，就是不论在哪一个时期，不论在哪一件事情上，不论在哪一种环境里，他和我之间都没丝毫瓜葛。”
但维尔福说的这几句话甚至连他自己都不相信。他怕的倒不是事情被揭发出来，因为即使揭发出来他可以辩护可以否认；他并不十分顾忌那突然出现在墙上的血字；他真正急于想发现的是，究竟是谁写这些血字。为了使自己的神经放松一下，他开始幻想起来。他以前常常幻想他的政治前途，这是他野心的梦想的主题，但今天他没法去想那方面的事情，他深怕惊醒了那沉睡了这么久的仇人，现在他只为自己想象一幅享受家庭之乐的远景。正在这时，庭院里传来一辆马车滚动的声音，接着他听到一个老年人的脚步踏上楼梯，后面跟随着一片哭泣和悲叹声，这是仆人们的常态，表示他们也很关心主人的伤心事。他打开门，进来了一位老太太，臂上挽着披肩，手里拿着帽子，不等通报就进来了白发压着她黄色的前额，她的眼睛周围刻满岁月留下的皱纹，眼睛几乎消失在那因悲哀过度而发肿的眼皮底下了。“噢，阁下，”她说——
“噢，阁下，多大的不幸呀！我要死了，噢，是的，我一定要死了！”
她就倒在那张离门最近的椅子上，突然啜泣起来。仆人们站在门口，不敢进去，诺瓦蒂埃的老仆人在他主人的房间里听到那一片喧闹声，也赶来站在后面，大家都望着她。维尔福站起来，向这位老太太他的岳母奔过去。“发生了什么事啦！”他喊道，“您为什么这样难过！圣·梅朗先生没有和您一起来吗？”
“圣·梅朗先生死啦！”老侯爵夫人直截了当地回答，脸上也没有什么特殊的表情，看来她似乎已经麻木了。
维尔福后退几步，两手紧紧地握在一起，喊道：“死了，这样突然？”
“一星期前，”圣·梅朗夫人又说，“我们吃过午餐就一同乘着马车出发。圣·梅朗先生感到不舒服已经有几天了。但是，想到可以看到我们亲爱的瓦朗蒂娜，他顾不上自己正在生病，坚持起程。我们离开马赛十八哩路时，他吃了他常服的金锭丹以后，就沉沉睡去。我觉得他睡的有点不自然，可是我又不敢喊醒他，我觉得他的脸色好像变红了，他的太阳穴上的血管跳得比平常厉害。那时天色渐渐黑了，我也看不清了，我就让他去睡。突然间，他发出一声含糊不清的痛苦的叫声，象是一个人在梦中受到了伤害似的，接着他的头猛然往后一倒。我叫车夫停车，我叫圣·梅朗先生，我给他闻我的嗅盐，但一切都晚了，我是坐在一个尸体旁边到达埃克斯的。”
维尔福半张着嘴站着，吓呆了。“您想必请医生了？”
“当时就请了，但是，我刚才说过，已经太晚啦。”
“是的，但他至少可以确诊可怜的侯爵死于什么病吧。”
“哦，是的，阁下，他告诉我说象是一种暴发性中风。”
“当时您怎么办的呢？”
“圣·梅朗先生常说，如果他不是死在巴黎，希望能将他的遗体运回家族的墓室。我看着遗体装在一具铅棺里，自己先回巴黎，棺材过几天才来。
“哦，可怜的母亲！”维乐福先生说，“您这么大年纪，受到这样的一个打击以后，还得这么操心。”
“上帝支持我，让我坚持了下来，而且，我为可怜的侯爵所办的那一切，换了他当然也会替我办的。自从他离开我以后，我似乎已经麻木了。我不能哭，他们说，到我这样的年龄，就没有眼泪的了。可是，我以为当一个人心里难受的时候，就应该哭出来。瓦朗蒂娜在哪儿，阁下？我是为她而来的，我希望见见瓦朗蒂娜。”
维尔福觉得如要说瓦朗蒂娜去参加舞会了未免太残酷，所以他只说她和她的继母一同出去了，他这就去接她们回来。
“马上去，阁下！马上去，我求求你！”夫人说。
维尔福扶起圣·梅朗夫人，领她到内室。“您休息一下吧，母亲。”她说。
听到这句话，侯爵夫人，抬起头来。眼前的这个人使她强烈地想起她无限哀悼的那个女儿来，她觉得她的女儿还活在瓦朗蒂娜的身上，这声“母亲”使她大为感动，顿时老泪纵横，跪倒在一张圈椅前面，把她那白发苍苍的头埋在椅子里。维尔福吩咐女佣人照顾好老夫人，而老巴罗斯则惊惶地跑去报告他的主人去了。因为最使老年人恐惧的事情，没有比听到死神暂时放松对他们的警戒，而去打击另外一个老年人更可怕了。当圣·梅朗夫人还跪在地上，在那儿虔诚祈祷的时候，维尔福叫人备好马车，亲自到马尔塞夫夫人那里去接他的妻子和女儿。当他出现在舞厅门口的时候，他的脸色苍白的瓦朗蒂娜急忙向他跑过来，说：“哦，爸爸，发生了什么不幸的事吧！”
“你的外婆刚才到了，瓦朗蒂娜。”维尔福先生说。
“外公呢？”那年轻姑娘浑身颤抖。
维尔福先生的回答只是伸手去扶住他的女儿。他做得正及时，因为瓦朗蒂娜的头一阵晕眩。脚下打了一个踉跄；维尔福夫人立刻赶过来扶住她，一面帮助她的丈夫把她搀到马车里，一面说：“真是怪事！谁想得到会发生这种事，真是怪事！”这不幸的一家人就这么走了，留下一片愁云，笼罩着整个大厅。
瓦朗蒂娜发现巴罗斯在扶梯脚下等她。“诺瓦蒂埃先生希望今天晚上见您一次。”他低声说。
“告诉他，我见过我亲爱的外婆后就来。”她回答，她感到目前最需要她帮的是圣·梅朗夫人。
瓦朗蒂娜发现她的外祖母躺在床上。这一场伤心的会见里，默默的爱抚、心痛如绞的啜泣、断断续续的叹息、止不住的热泪，说不尽道不完的。维尔福夫人靠在丈夫的肩膀上，对可怜的遗孀保持着外表上的一切敬意。她不久就对她的丈夫耳语说：“我想，如果你允许的话，我还是走开的好，因为我在这儿似乎会使你的岳母难过。”
圣·梅朗夫人听到了她的话。“是的，是的，”她温和地对瓦朗蒂娜耳语说，“让她离开吧，但你要留在这儿。”
维尔福夫人走了，瓦朗蒂娜独自留在床边，因为那位检察官被这个意外的死讯惊得不知所措，也跟着妻子出去了。
现在且回头来讲老诺瓦蒂埃，我们前面说过，诺瓦蒂埃听到家里的闹声，就派他的老仆人去查问原因；巴罗斯一回来，他就用机敏的眼光向他的使者询问。
“唉，老爷！”巴罗斯惊叹道，“发生了不幸的事情啦。圣·梅朗夫人到了，她的丈夫死啦！”
严格地说来，圣·梅朗先生和诺瓦蒂埃之间没有友谊可言。可是，一个老年人的死总会影响到另一个老年人。诺瓦蒂埃的头无力地垂到胸前，显然心里很难过，在想什么心思，然后他闭上一只眼睛。
“瓦朗蒂娜小姐吗？”巴罗斯问。
诺瓦蒂埃作了个肯定的表示。
“她参加舞会去了，这是您知道的，因为她打扮得整整齐齐地来向您告辞过的。”
诺瓦蒂埃又闭一闭他的左眼。
“您想见她吗？”
诺瓦蒂埃又作了肯定的表示。
“嗯，他们一定已经到马尔塞夫夫人那儿接她去了。我去等着，她一回来就请她到这儿来。您是不是这样想？”
“是的。”老人又作了一个肯定的回答。
所以，正如我们已说过的，巴罗斯就去守在门口，把老人的希望通知瓦朗蒂娜。因此，瓦朗蒂娜在离开圣·梅朗夫人以后，就来看诺瓦蒂埃了。圣·梅朗夫人终因疲乏过度而昏昏沉沉地睡着了。在她伸手所及的地方，他们放了一张小桌，桌子上放着一只玻璃杯和一瓶橙汁，这是她最喜欢的饮料。于是，那年轻姑娘离开床边去看诺瓦蒂埃先生。瓦朗蒂娜吻了老人一下，老人则带着无限怜惜的眼神望着她，以致她的眼泪又充满了眼眶。那位老先生依旧带着同样的表情凝视着她。
“是的，是的，”瓦朗蒂娜说，“您的意思是：我还有一位慈爱的祖父，是不是？”
老人表示他想说的正是这句话。
“上帝啊，幸而我还有你，”瓦朗蒂娜答道。“要是没有你的话，我可怎么受得了呢？”
这已经是凌晨一点钟了。巴罗斯觉得经过了这种伤心的事件以后，每一个人都需要休息，他自己也倦了。诺瓦蒂埃所需要的休息也不只是看他的孙女儿。所以瓦朗蒂娜也离开了，忧愁和疲乏使她看来象是病了。
第二天早晨，瓦朗蒂娜发现她的外祖母还是躺在床上。她并没有退烧；相反的，她的眼睛里闪着忧郁的火花，象是精神上正受着痛苦的折磨，“哦，亲爱的外婆！您更不舒服了吗？”
瓦朗蒂娜看到这种种焦躁不安的症状，不由得失声惊叫。
“没有，我的孩子，不是的！”圣·梅朗夫人说，“但我等你等得不耐烦了，我等你差人去找你的父亲来。”
“我的父亲？”瓦朗蒂娜不安地问。
“是的，我想跟他谈一谈。”
瓦朗蒂娜不敢违背外祖母的意思，而且她也不知道她要谈的是什么事。过了一会儿，维尔福进来了。
“阁下，”圣·梅朗夫人开门见山地说，象是怕她的时间不够用似的，“写信告诉我说，已经在为这个孩子准备婚事了？”
“是的，夫人，”维尔福回答，“不仅是准备，而是已经按排妥当了。”
“你的意中女婿是弗兰兹·伊皮奈先生？”
“是的，夫人。”
“他的父亲是我们的人就是在逆贼从厄尔巴岛逃回来的前几天被人暗杀的伊皮奈将军吗？”
“正是。”
“跟一个雅各宾党徒的孙女儿联姻，他不反感吗？”
“幸而我们的内战现在已经结束了，母亲，”维尔福说。
“他父亲去世的时候，伊皮奈先生还只是一个小孩子，他对诺瓦蒂埃先生知之甚少，瓦朗蒂娜将来和他相处，即使不愉快，也可以无所谓。”
“这门亲事配不配？”
“各方面都配。”
“那个年轻人怎么样？”
“很得大家的赞许。”
“他为人和不和气？”
“他是我所认识的最优秀的年轻人之一。”
在他们谈话期间，瓦朗蒂娜始终保持着沉默。
“嗯，阁下，”圣·梅朗夫人想了几分钟以后说，“我必须催你赶快办这件婚事，因为我能活的时间很短了。”
“您，夫人？”
“您，亲爱的外婆？”维尔福先生和瓦朗蒂娜同时惊喊道。
“我知道我在说什么话，”侯爵夫人继续说，“我必须催你赶快办，这样，在她结婚的时候，虽然没有母亲，至少还有一个外婆来为她祝福。我那可怜的蕾妮只剩下瓦朗蒂娜这条命根了，你是早把她忘掉的了，阁下。”
“啊，夫人，”维尔福说，“您忘记了我不能让我的孩子没有母亲。”
“继母决不是母亲，阁下。但这不是我们要谈的，我们只谈瓦朗蒂娜的婚事。我们不要去打扰死者吧。”
这些话说得非常急促，她的谈话似乎有点象呓语了。
“这件事一定照您的意见办理，夫人，”维尔福说，“尤其是您的意见正巧和我一致。伊皮奈先生一到巴黎——”
“我亲爱的外婆，”瓦朗蒂娜插进来说，“应当想一想外公刚去世。您不会愿意我在这样不吉利的时候结婚的吗？”
“我的孩子，”老太太厉声喊道，“别理会那些陈规俗套，它们只会使优柔寡断的人延迟建立他们的未来生活。我也是在我母亲的灵床前面结婚的，而我并没有因此减少了我的快乐。”
“可是，应该考虑一下死者，夫人！”维尔福说。
“可是？——永远要‘可是’下去吧！我告诉你，我就要死了，你懂不懂？在死以前，我要看看我的外孙女婿。我要嘱咐他让我的孩子快乐，我要从他的眼睛里看出他究竟会不会按我的嘱咐去做，总之，我要认识他，”老太太带着一种可怕的表情继续说，“如果将来他尽不到他的责任，我就从我的坟墓里爬起来找他！”
“夫人，”维尔福说，“您得丢开这过于激动的念头，这样想下去是要发疯的。人一死被埋入坟墓以后，就长眠不起了。”
“哦，是的，是的，亲爱的外婆，您定一定心吧。”瓦朗蒂娜说。
“我告诉你，阁下，你错啦。昨天晚上我睡得可怕极了。我的灵魂似乎已经脱离我的身体，在头顶上飘来荡去。我的眼睛不由自主地闭拢了，再也睁不开说来似乎不可能，尤其是你，阁下，我闭着眼睛竟也能看到东西，在你现在站的那个地方，从通到维尔福夫人梳妆室去的那个门的角落里，我看见，静静地进来了一个白色的人影。”
瓦朗蒂娜尖声叫起来。“这是您发烧的缘故，夫人。”维尔福说。
“信不信由你，但我知道我所说的的确是真的。我看到一个白色的人影。而且，象是恐怕我单凭一种感官的证明还不够似的，我又听到我的玻璃杯被挪动的声音——就是现在放在桌子上的那一只。”
“噢，亲爱的外婆，那是一个梦。”
“那不是做梦，因为我还伸手出去拉铃呢，但当我要拉铃的时候，那个影子不见了。接着我的婢女就拿着一盏灯进来。”
“她没有看到什么吗？”
“鬼只有应该看见它们的人才看得到。那是我丈夫的灵魂！如果我丈夫的灵魂可以到我这里来，为什么我的灵魂不能出来保护我的外孙女儿呢？据我看，这关系似乎更直接。”
“哦，夫人，”维尔福不禁大为感动地说，“别去想那些伤心事了，您还要快乐地和我们一起生活。我们会永远爱你，尊敬您，我们会让您忘记”
“不，不，不！”侯爵夫人说。“伊皮奈先生什么时候到？”
“随时会到，我们正在等他呢。”
“很好。他一到，马上通知我。我们必须赶紧给我去请一位公证人来，以便把我们的财产全部转到瓦朗蒂娜名下。”
“哦，外婆！”瓦朗蒂娜把她的嘴唇贴到她外祖母滚烫的额头上，不安地说，“您是吓死我吗？”上帝啊，您在发烧，我们必须去找的不是公证人，而是医生！”
“医生！”她耸耸肩说，“我没有病，我只是口渴。”
“您要喝什么，亲爱的外婆？”
“跟平常一样，喝杯子汁，我的杯子就在桌子上。拿给我，瓦朗蒂娜。”
瓦朗蒂娜把橙汁倒在桌子上的玻璃杯里，拿给她的外祖母，心里有点害怕，因为鬼碰过这只杯子。侯爵夫人一口就把橙汁喝干，然后在枕头上辗转反侧，反复地喊道：“公证人！公证人！”
维尔福先生走了，瓦朗蒂娜坐在外祖母的床边。那个可怜的孩子说她的外祖母需要医生，但看来她自己也很需要。她的脸颊绯红，呼吸短促而困难，脉搏跳得非常快。可怜的姑娘心想，要是马西米兰知道圣·梅朗夫人非但不是他的盟友，而且无意之中几乎也成了一个敌人，那时他会有多么失望。她不止一次想把一切都告诉她的外祖母，而且要是马西米兰·莫雷尔的名字是叫阿尔贝·马尔塞夫或夏多·勒诺的话，她早就毫不犹豫；但莫雷尔只是平民出身，而瓦朗蒂娜知道他那心高气傲的圣·梅朗侯爵夫人是多么鄙视一切平民出身的人。每当她要把她的秘密吐露出来的时候，就想到这不过是一种徒然的举动，便又伤心地把它抑制了下去，因为这个秘密一旦被她的父母发觉以后，就一切都完了。
两个钟头就这样过去了。圣·梅朗夫人昏昏沉沉地睡着，公证人已到了。通报的声音虽然极轻，圣·梅朗夫人却立刻抬起头来。“公证人吗？”她喊道，“让他进来！”
公证人本来就在门口，立刻走进来。“你去吧，瓦朗蒂娜，”圣·梅朗夫人说，“让我和这位先生谈一谈。”
“但是，外婆——”
“去吧！去！”那年轻姑娘吻了吻她的外祖母，用手帕擦着眼睛走了出去。她在房门口遇到维尔福先生的贴身男仆，男仆告诉她医生已在客厅里等着了。瓦朗蒂娜立刻跑下去。那个医生跟她家是世交，也是当代名医，非常喜欢瓦朗蒂娜，当年他是看着瓦朗蒂娜降临这个人世的。他自己也有一个年龄和她相仿佛的女儿，他的妻子是患肺病死的，因此他终生都在不断地为女儿担心。
“哦，”瓦朗蒂娜说，“我们等您等得急死了，亲爱的阿夫里尼先生。但先告诉我，梅蒂兰和安妥妮蒂可好吗？”
梅蒂兰是阿夫里尼先生的女儿，安妥妮蒂是他的侄女。阿夫里尼先生忧郁笑了一下。“安妥妮蒂很好，”他说，“梅蒂兰也还算好。但你派人叫我来，我的好孩子，难道你的爸爸或维尔福夫人病了吗？至于你，心头的烦恼是明摆着的，但除了劝你不要太胡思乱想以外，我看你并不需要我的什么帮助。”
瓦朗蒂娜的脸涨得通红。阿夫里尼的医道几乎到了出神入化的境地，因为她是一位主张治病先治心的医生。“不，”她答道，“是我那可怜的外祖母。我们所遭遇的不幸想必您已经知道了。”
“一无所知。”阿夫里尼医生说。
“唉！”瓦朗蒂娜忍着眼泪说，“我的外祖父死啦。”
“圣·梅朗先生？”
“是的。”
“突然死的？”
“暴发性中风。”
“中风？”医生重复说。
“是的。我那可怜的外婆从来没有和外公离开过，她幻想他已经来叫她了，以为她一定得去跟他在一起。噢，阿夫里尼医生，我求求您，想办法救救她。”
“她在哪儿？”
“在她的房间里，跟公证人在谈话呢。”
“诺瓦蒂埃先生呢？”
“还是老样子，他的神志十分清楚，但还是不能动，不能讲话。”
“他还是照样爱你吗，我的好孩子？”
“是的，”瓦朗蒂娜说，“他非常喜欢我。”
“谁能不爱你呢？”
瓦朗蒂娜忧郁地微笑了一下。
“你外婆情况怎么样？”
“处于一种奇特的兴奋状态，睡的时候昏昏沉沉，不正常。她今天早上硬说在睡觉的时候她的灵魂已经脱离身体，在她的头顶上盘旋，她自己竟能看得到，好象是神经错乱了。她看见一个鬼走进房间里来，甚至还听到鬼碰她的玻璃杯的声音。”
“这就怪了，”医生说，“我以前不知道圣·梅朗夫人有这种幻觉症。”
“我也是第一次看到她如此，”瓦朗蒂娜说，“今天早上她把我吓坏了，我简直以为她疯了。我父亲您知道，向来很坚强。可是他似乎也吓呆了。”
“我们去看看吧，”医生说，“你讲给我听的那些事情我也觉得非常奇怪。”
这时公证人下来了，瓦朗蒂娜知道她外祖母现在是自己呆在房间里。“请上楼去吧。”她对医生说。
“你呢？”
“噢，我不敢上去她不许我派人去找您，而且，正如您所说的，我自己心里也乱得很，有点发烧，很不舒服。我要到花园里去转一转，定定神。”
医生握了握瓦朗蒂娜的手。上楼去看她的外祖母了，而瓦朗蒂娜则走下台阶。至于她喜欢是在花园的哪一部分散步自然不必再说了。平时，她总在房子周围的花坛间逗留一会儿，折一朵玫瑰花插在胸前或发鬓上，然后折入那条通到后门去的幽暗的走道。瓦朗蒂娜照常在花丛间走了一会儿，但并没有摘花。虽然她还来得及把自己打扮成居丧的样子，可是她内心的哀痛，使她感到作这种朴素的装饰，也是不应该的。她转身沿着那条小径走去。正当她往前走的时候，她好象听到有人在呼唤她的名字。她吃惊地停住脚步。那声音就更清晰地传入她的耳际，她听出那是马西米兰的声音。