基督山伯爵 英文版 The Count of Monte Cristo
大仲马 Alexandre Dumas père
Chapter 73 Page 2
The young man read Valentine's letter twenty times in thecourse of the day. It was her first, and on what anoccasion! Each time he read it he renewed his vow to makeher happy. How great is the power of a woman who has made socourageous a resolution! What devotion does she deserve fromhim for whom she has sacrificed everything! How ought shereally to be supremely loved! She becomes at once a queenand a wife, and it is impossible to thank and love hersufficiently. Morrel longed intensely for the moment when heshould hear Valentine say, "Here I am, Maximilian; come andhelp me." He had arranged everything for her escape; twoladders were hidden in the clover-field; a cabriolet wasordered for Maximilian alone, without a servant, withoutlights; at the turning of the first street they would lightthe lamps, as it would be foolish to attract the notice ofthe police by too many precautions. Occasionally heshuddered; he thought of the moment when, from the top ofthat wall, he should protect the descent of his dearValentine, pressing in his arms for the first time her ofwhom he had yet only kissed the delicate hand.
When the afternoon arrived and he felt that the hour wasdrawing near, he wished for solitude, his agitation wasextreme; a simple question from a friend would haveirritated him. He shut himself in his room, and tried toread, but his eye glanced over the page withoutunderstanding a word, and he threw away the book, and forthe second time sat down to sketch his plan, the ladders andthe fence. At length the hour drew near. Never did a mandeeply in love allow the clocks to go on peacefully. Morreltormented his so effectually that they struck eight athalf-past six. He then said, "It is time to start; thesignature was indeed fixed to take place at nine o'clock,but perhaps Valentine will not wait for that." Consequently,Morrel, having left the Rue Meslay at half-past eight by histimepiece, entered the clover-field while the clock ofSaint-Phillippe du Roule was striking eight. The horse andcabriolet were concealed behind a small ruin, where Morrelhad often waited.
The night gradually drew on, and the foliage in the gardenassumed a deeper hue. Then Morrel came out from hishiding-place with a beating heart, and looked through thesmall opening in the gate; there was yet no one to be seen.The clock struck half-past eight, and still anotherhalf-hour was passed in waiting, while Morrel walked to andfro, and gazed more and more frequently through the opening.The garden became darker still, but in the darkness helooked in vain for the white dress, and in the silence hevainly listened for the sound of footsteps. The house, whichwas discernible through the trees, remained in darkness, andgave no indication that so important an event as thesignature of a marriage-contract was going on. Morrel lookedat his watch, which wanted a quarter to ten; but soon thesame clock he had already heard strike two or three timesrectified the error by striking half-past nine.
This was already half an hour past the time Valentine hadfixed. It was a terrible moment for the young man. Theslightest rustling of the foliage, the least whistling ofthe wind, attracted his attention, and drew the perspirationto his brow; then he tremblingly fixed his ladder, and, notto lose a moment, placed his foot on the first step. Amidstall these alternations of hope and fear, the clock struckten. "It is impossible," said Maximilian, "that the signingof a contract should occupy so long a time withoutunexpected interruptions. I have weighed all the chances,calculated the time required for all the forms; somethingmust have happened." And then he walked rapidly to and fro,and pressed his burning forehead against the fence. HadValentine fainted? or had she been discovered and stopped inher flight? These were the only obstacles which appearedpossible to the young man.
The idea that her strength had failed her in attempting toescape, and that she had fainted in one of the paths, wasthe one that most impressed itself upon his mind. "In thatcase," said he, "I should lose her, and by my own fault." Hedwelt on this idea for a moment, then it appeared reality.He even thought he could perceive something on the ground ata distance; he ventured to call, and it seemed to him thatthe wind wafted back an almost inarticulate sigh. At lastthe half-hour struck. It was impossible to wait longer, histemples throbbed violently, his eyes were growing dim; hepassed one leg over the wall, and in a moment leaped down onthe other side. He was on Villefort's premises -- hadarrived there by scaling the wall. What might be theconsequences? However, he had not ventured thus far to drawback. He followed a short distance close under the wall,then crossed a path, hid entered a clump of trees. In amoment he had passed through them, and could see the housedistinctly. Then Morrel saw that he had been right inbelieving that the house was not illuminated. Instead oflights at every window, as is customary on days of ceremony,he saw only a gray mass, which was veiled also by a cloud,which at that moment obscured the moon's feeble light. Alight moved rapidly from time to time past three windows ofthe second floor. These three windows were in Madame deSaint-Meran's room. Another remained motionless behind somered curtains which were in Madame de Villefort's bedroom.Morrel guessed all this. So many times, in order to followValentine in thought at every hour in the day, had he madeher describe the whole house, that without having seen it heknew it all.
This darkness and silence alarmed Morrel still more thanValentine's absence had done. Almost mad with grief, anddetermined to venture everything in order to see Valentineonce more, and be certain of the misfortune he feared,Morrel gained the edge of the clump of trees, and was goingto pass as quickly as possible through the flower-garden,when the sound of a voice, still at some distance, but whichwas borne upon the wind, reached him.
At this sound, as he was already partially exposed to view,he stepped back and concealed himself completely, remainingperfectly motionless. He had formed his resolution. If itwas Valentine alone, he would speak as she passed; if shewas accompanied, and he could not speak, still he should seeher, and know that she was safe; if they were strangers, hewould listen to their conversation, and might understandsomething of this hitherto incomprehensible mystery. Themoon had just then escaped from behind the cloud which hadconcealed it, and Morrel saw Villefort come out upon thesteps, followed by a gentleman in black. They descended, andadvanced towards the clump of trees, and Morrel soonrecognized the other gentleman as Doctor d'Avrigny.
The young man, seeing them approach, drew back mechanically,until he found himself stopped by a sycamore-tree in thecentre of the clump; there he was compelled to remain. Soonthe two gentlemen stopped also.
"Ah, my dear doctor," said the procureur, "heaven declaresitself against my house! What a dreadful death -- what ablow! Seek not to console me; alas, nothing can alleviate sogreat a sorrow -- the wound is too deep and too fresh! Dead,dead!" The cold sweat sprang to the young man's brow, andhis teeth chattered. Who could be dead in that house, whichVillefort himself had called accursed? "My dear M. deVillefort," replied the doctor, with a tone which redoubledthe terror of the young man, "I have not led you here toconsole you; on the contrary" --
such things from such a man as you! Tellme, I entreat you, my dear doctor?
"What can you mean?" asked the procureur, alarmed.
"I mean that behind the misfortune which has just happenedto you, there is another, perhaps, still greater."
"Can it be possible?" murmured Villefort, clasping hishands. "What are you going to tell me?"
"Are we quite alone, my friend?"
"Yes, quite; but why all these precautions?"
"Because I have a terrible secret to communicate to you,"said the doctor. "Let us sit down."
Villefort fell, rather than seated himself The doctor stoodbefore him, with one hand placed on his shoulder. Morrel,horrified, supported his head with one hand, and with theother pressed his heart, lest its beatings should be heard."Dead, dead!" repeated he within himself; and he felt as ifhe were also dying.
"Speak, doctor -- I am listening," said Villefort; "strike-- I am prepared for everything!"
"Madame de Saint-Meran was, doubtless, advancing in years,but she enjoyed excellent health." Morrel began again tobreathe freely, which he had not done during the last tenminutes.
"Grief has consumed her," said Villefort -- "yes, grief,doctor! After living forty years with the marquis" --
"It is not grief, my dear Villefort," said the doctor;"grief may kill, although it rarely does, and never in aday, never in an hour, never in ten minutes." Villefortanswered nothing, he simply raised his head, which had beencast down before, and looked at the doctor with amazement.
"Were you present during the last struggle?" asked M.d'Avrigny.
"I was," replied the procureur; "you begged me not toleave."
"Did you notice the symptoms of the disease to which Madamede Saint-Meran has fallen a victim?"
"I did. Madame de Saint-Meran had three successive attacks,at intervals of some minutes, each one more serious than theformer. When you arrived, Madame de Saint-Meran had alreadybeen panting for breath some minutes; she then had a fit,which I took to be simply a nervous attack, and it was onlywhen I saw her raise herself in the bed, and her limbs andneck appear stiffened, that I became really alarmed. Then Iunderstood from your countenance there was more to fear thanI had thought. This crisis past, I endeavored to catch youreye, but could not. You held her hand -- you were feelingher pulse -- and the second fit came on before you hadturned towards me. This was more terrible than the first;the same nervous movements were repeated, and the mouthcontracted and turned purple."
"And at the third she expired."
"At the end of the first attack I discovered symptoms oftetanus; you confirmed my opinion."
"Yes, before others," replied the doctor; "but now we arealone" --
"What are you going to say? Oh, spare me!"
"That the symptoms of tetanus and poisoning by vegetablesubstances are the same." M. de Villefort started from hisseat, then in a moment fell down again, silent andmotionless. Morrel knew not if he were dreaming or awake."Listen," said the doctor; "I know the full importance of thestatement I have just made, and the disposition of the manto whom I have made it."
"Do you speak to me as a magistrate or as a friend?" askedVillefort.
"As a friend, and only as a friend, at this moment. Thesimilarity in the symptoms of tetanus and poisoning byvegetable substances is so great, that were I obliged toaffirm by oath what I have now stated, I should hesitate; Itherefore repeat to you, I speak not to a magistrate, but toa friend. And to that friend I say. `During thethree-quarters of an hour that the struggle continued, Iwatched the convulsions and the death of Madame deSaint-Meran, and am thoroughly convinced that not only didher death proceed from poison, but I could also specify thepoison.'"
"Can it be possible?"
"The symptoms are marked, do you see? -- sleep broken bynervous spasms, excitation of the brain, torpor of the nervecentres. Madame de Saint-Meran succumbed to a powerful doseof brucine or of strychnine, which by some mistake, perhaps,has been given to her." Villefort seized the doctor's hand."Oh, it is impossible," said he, "I must be dreaming! It isfrightful to hear such things from such a man as you! Tellme, I entreat you, my dear doctor, that you may bedeceived."
"Doubtless I may, but" --
"But?"
"But I do not think so."
"Have pity on me doctor! So many dreadful things havehappened to me lately that I am on the verge of madness."
"Has any one besides me seen Madame de Saint-Meran?"
"Has anything been sent for from a chemist's that I have notexamined?"
"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 oneinstant harbored it."
"Indeed, my dear friend," said M. d'Avrigny, "I would notaccuse any one; I speak only of an accident, you understand,-- of a mistake, -- but whether accident or mistake, thefact is there; it is on my conscience and compels me tospeak aloud to you. Make inquiry."
"Of whom? -- how? -- of what?"
"May not Barrois, the old servant, have made a mistake, andhave given Madame de Saint-Meran a dose prepared for hismaster?"
"For my father?"
"Yes."
"But how could a dose prepared for M. Noirtier poison Madamede Saint-Meran?"
"Nothing is more simple. You know poisons become remedies incertain diseases, of which paralysis is one. For instance,having tried every other remedy to restore movement andspeech to M. Noirtier, I resolved to try one last means, andfor three months I have been giving him brucine; so that inthe last dose I ordered for him there were six grains. Thisquantity, which is perfectly safe to administer to theparalyzed frame of M. Noirtier, which has become graduallyaccustomed to it, would be sufficient to kill anotherperson."
"My dear doctor, there is no communication between M.Noirtier's apartment and that of Madame de Saint-Meran, andBarrois never entered my mother-in-law's room. In short,doctor although I know you to be the most conscientious manin the world, and although I place the utmost reliance inyou, I want, notwithstanding my conviction, to believe thisaxiom, errare humanum est."
"Is there one of my brethren in whom you have equalconfidence 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 willconsult 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 thestate of the body; we shall discover the cause of her suddendeath, and we shall say, `Dear Villefort, if this thing hasbeen caused by negligence, watch over your servants; if fromhatred, watch your enemies.'"
"What do you propose to me, d'Avrigny?" said Villefort indespair; "so soon as another is admitted into our secret, aninquest will become necessary; and an inquest in my house --impossible! Still," continued the procureur, looking at thedoctor with uneasiness, "if you wish it -- if you demand it,why then it shall be done. But, doctor, you see me alreadyso grieved -- how can I introduce into my house so muchscandal, after so much sorrow? My wife and my daughter woulddie of it! And I, doctor -- you know a man does not arriveat the post I occupy -- one has not been king's attorneytwenty-five years without having amassed a tolerable numberof 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 worldlyideas; were you a priest I should not dare tell you that,but you are a man, and you know mankind. Doctor, pray recallyour words; you have said nothing, have you?"
"My dear M. de Villefort," replied the doctor, "my firstduty is to humanity. I would have saved Madame deSaint-Meran, if science could have done it; but she is deadand my duty regards the living. Let us bury this terriblesecret in the deepest recesses of our hearts; I am willing,if any one should suspect this, that my silence on thesubject should be imputed to my ignorance. Meanwhile, sir,watch always -- watch carefully, for perhaps the evil maynot stop here. And when you have found the culprit, if youfind him, I will say to you, `You are a magistrate, do asyou will!'"
"I thank you, doctor," said Villefort with indescribablejoy; "I never had a better friend than you." And, as if hefeared Doctor d'Avrigny would recall his promise, he hurriedhim towards the house.
When they were gone, Morrel ventured out from under thetrees, and the moon shone upon his face, which was so paleit might have been taken for that of a ghost. "I ammanifestly protected in a most wonderful, but most terriblemanner," said he; "but Valentine, poor girl, how will shebear so much sorrow?"
As he thought thus, he looked alternately at the window withred curtains and the three windows with white curtains. Thelight had almost disappeared from the former; doubtlessMadame de Villefort had just put out her lamp, and thenightlamp alone reflected its dull light on the window. Atthe extremity of the building, on the contrary, he saw oneof the three windows open. A wax-light placed on themantle-piece threw some of its pale rays without, and ashadow was seen for one moment on the balcony. Morrelshuddered; he thought he heard a sob.
It cannot be wondered at that his mind, generally socourageous, but now disturbed by the two strongest humanpassions, love and fear, was weakened even to the indulgenceof superstitious thoughts. Although it was impossible thatValentine should see him, hidden as he was, he thought heheard the shadow at the window call him; his disturbed mindtold him so. This double error became an irresistiblereality, and by one of the incomprehensible transports ofyouth, he bounded from his hiding-place, and with twostrides, at the risk of being seen, at the risk of alarmingValentine, at the risk of being discovered by someexclamation which might escape the young girl, he crossedthe flower-garden, which by the light of the moon resembleda large white lake, and having passed the rows oforange-trees which extended in front of the house, hereached the step, ran quickly up and pushed the door, whichopened without offering any resistance. Valentine had notseen him. Her eyes, raised towards heaven, were watching asilvery cloud gliding over the azure, its form that of ashadow mounting towards heaven. Her poetic and excited mindpictured it as the soul of her grandmother.
Meanwhile, Morrel had traversed the anteroom and found thestaircase, which, being carpeted, prevented his approachbeing heard, and he had regained that degree of confidencethat the presence of M. de Villefort even would not havealarmed him. He was quite prepared for any such encounter.He would at once approach Valentine's father and acknowledgeall, begging Villefort to pardon and sanction the love whichunited two fond and loving hearts. Morrel was mad. Happilyhe did not meet any one. Now, especially, did he find thedescription Valentine had given of the interior of the houseuseful to him; he arrived safely at the top of thestaircase, and while he was feeling his way, a sob indicatedthe direction he was to take. He turned back, a door partlyopen enabled him to see his road, and to hear the voice ofone in sorrow. He pushed the door open and entered. At theother end of the room, under a white sheet which covered it,lay the corpse, still more alarming to Morrel since theaccount he had so unexpectedly overheard. By its side, onher knees, and with her head buried in the cushion of aneasy-chair, was Valentine, trembling and sobbing, her handsextended above her head, clasped and stiff. She had turnedfrom the window, which remained open, and was praying inaccents that would have affected the most unfeeling; herwords were rapid, incoherent, unintelligible, for theburning weight of grief almost stopped her utterance. Themoon shining through the open blinds made the lamp appear toburn paler, and cast a sepulchral hue over the whole scene.Morrel could not resist this; he was not exemplary forpiety, he was not easily impressed, but Valentine suffering,weeping, wringing her hands before him, was more than hecould bear in silence. He sighed, and whispered a name, andthe head bathed in tears and pressed on the velvet cushionof the chair -- a head like that of a Magdalen by Correggio-- was raised and turned towards him. Valentine perceivedhim without betraying the least surprise. A heartoverwhelmed with one great grief is insensible to minoremotions. Morrel held out his hand to her. Valentine, as heronly apology for not having met him, pointed to the corpseunder the sheet, and began to sob again. Neither dared forsome time to speak in that room. They hesitated to break thesilence which death seemed to impose; at length Valentineventured.