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Monsieur de Villefort was not alone Dr. d'Avigny accompanied his patient, and whispered a word in his ear now and then. Villefort was only a ruin now. His hanging lower lip and glassy eyes impressed the spectators and the bench sadly, and even those who were accustomed to be attacked by him in the days of his power as a district-attorney now only felt pity for the man who had fallen so low.
"Yes, I remember; you mean the Count of Monte-Cristo," said Villefort, with emotion. "The Count of Monte-Cristo," repeated the district-attorney, contemptuously, "the adventurer?" "Sir, do not blaspheme!" exclaimed Villefort, passionately; "if Valentine is saved she owes it to that God in the form of man the Count of Monte-Cristo! He alone has the power to change the dead into the living.
It is one of the most desirable connections which could possibly be formed; he possesses fortune, a high rank in society, and every personal qualification likely to render Valentine supremely happy, his name, moreover, cannot be wholly unknown to you. It is M. Franz de Quesnel, Baron d'Epinay." While his wife was speaking, Villefort had narrowly watched the old man's countenance.
"Yes," said Madame de Villefort; "and it is still entirely in the power of my husband to cause the will, which is now in prejudice of Valentine, to be altered in her favor."
"Edward, you naughty boy," exclaimed Madame de Villefort, snatching the mutilated book from the urchin's grasp, "you are positively past bearing; you really disturb the conversation; go, leave us, and join your sister Valentine in dear grandpapa Noirtier's room." "The album," said Edward sulkily. "What do you mean? the album!" "I want the album." "How dare you tear out the drawings?"
"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 Renee, 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.
A deep crimson suffused the countenance of Villefort. "'Tis true, madame," answered he, "that my father was a Girondin, but he was not among the number of those who voted for the king's death; he was an equal sufferer with yourself during the Reign of Terror, and had well-nigh lost his head on the same scaffold on which your father perished."
Yesterday there was a lady here to see Benedetto, who was not permitted to converse with him except in the presence of the port inspector and the jailer." "A lady?" exclaimed Madame Danglars, vivaciously. "Can you tell me who she was?" "Oh, certainly, it was Mademoiselle de Villefort, the daughter of the recently deceased district-attorney."
"Her hand!" exclaimed every one. "Oh, gentlemen, you see it is all useless, and that my father's mind is really impaired," said Villefort. "Ah," cried Valentine suddenly, "I understand. It is my marriage you mean, is it not, dear grandpapa?" "Yes, yes, yes," signed the paralytic, casting on Valentine a look of joyful gratitude for having guessed his meaning.
On the front of the monument was inscribed: "The families of Saint-Meran and Villefort," for such had been the last wish expressed by poor Renee, Valentine's mother. The pompous procession therefore wended its way towards Pere-la-Chaise from the Faubourg Saint-Honore. Having crossed Paris, it passed through the Faubourg du Temple, then leaving the exterior boulevards, it reached the cemetery.
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