The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas [527]
Meanwhile M. de Villefort arrived in a hired cabriolet at M. d'Avrigny's door. He rang so violently that the porter was alarmed. Villefort ran up–stairs without saying a word. The porter knew him, and let him pass, only calling to him, "In his study, Monsieur Procureur—in his study!" Villefort pushed, or rather forced, the door open. "Ah," said the doctor, "is it you?"
"Yes," said Villefort, closing the door after him, "it is I, who am come in my turn to ask you if we are quite alone. Doctor, my house is accursed!"
"What?" said the latter with apparent coolness, but with deep emotion, "have you another invalid?"
"Yes, doctor," cried Villefort, clutching his hair, "yes!"
D'Avrigny's look implied, "I told you it would be so." Then he slowly uttered these words, "Who is now dying in your house? What new victim is going to accuse you of weakness before God?" A mournful sob burst from Villefort's heart; he approached the doctor, and seizing his arm,—"Valentine," said he, "it is Valentine's turn!"
"Your daughter?" cried d'Avrigny with grief and surprise.
"You see you were deceived," murmured the magistrate; "come and see her, and on her bed of agony entreat her pardon for having suspected her."
"Each time you have applied to me," said the doctor, "it has been too late; still I will go. But let us make haste, sir; with the enemies you have to do with there is no time to be lost."
"Oh, this time, doctor, you shall not have to reproach me with weakness. This time I will know the assassin, and will pursue him."
"Let us try first to save the victim before we think of revenging her," said d'Avrigny. "Come." The same cabriolet which had brought Villefort took them back at full speed, and at this moment Morrel rapped at Monte Cristo's door. The count was in his study and was reading with an angry look something which Bertuccio had brought in haste. Hearing the name of Morrel, who had left him only two hours before, the count raised his head, arose, and sprang to meet him. "What is the matter, Maximilian?" asked he; "you are pale, and the perspiration rolls from your forehead." Morrel fell into a chair. "Yes," said he, "I came quickly; I wanted to speak to you."
"Are all your family well?" asked the count, with an affectionate benevolence, whose sincerity no one could for a moment doubt.
"Thank you, count—thank you," said the young man, evidently embarrassed how to begin the conversation; "yes, every one in my family is well."
"So much the better; yet you have something to tell me?" replied the count with increased anxiety.
"Yes," said Morrel, "it is true; I have but now left a house where death has just entered, to run to you."
"Are you then come from M. de Morcerf's?" asked Monte Cristo.
"No," said Morrel; "is some one dead in his house?"
"The general has just blown his brains out," replied Monte Cristo with great coolness.
"Oh, what a dreadful event!" cried Maximilian.
"Not for the countess, or for