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Updated: May 28, 2025
Madame de Nailles, among other talents, possessed that of amateur acting. On one occasion, several years before, she had asked his advice concerning what dress she should wear in a little play of Scribe's, which was to be given at the house of Madame d'Avrigny the house in all Paris most addicted to private theatricals.
"Who brought it into this room, then?" "Mademoiselle Valentine." D'Avrigny struck his forehead with his hand. "Gracious heaven," exclaimed he. "Doctor, doctor!" cried Barrois, who felt another fit coming. "Will they never bring that emetic?" asked the doctor. "Here is a glass with one already prepared," said Villefort, entering the room. "Who prepared it?" "The chemist who came here with me."
"Did Barrois make your lemonade?" "Yes." "Was it you who asked him to drink some of it?" "No." "Was it M. de Villefort?" "No." "Madame?" "No." "It was your granddaughter, then, was it not?" "Yes." A groan from Barrois, accompanied by a yawn which seemed to crack the very jawbones, attracted the attention of M. d'Avrigny; he left M. Noirtier, and returned to the sick man.
Villefort answered nothing, he simply raised his head, which had been cast 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 to leave." "Did you notice the symptoms of the disease to which Madame de Saint-Meran has fallen a victim?" "I did.
There were artists and amateurs present, and even respectable women, for Madame d'Avrigny, attracted by the odor of a species of Bohemianism, had come to breathe it with delight, under cover of a wish to glean ideas for her next winter's receptions.
"My God, have mercy upon me!" and, uttering a fearful cry, Barrois fell back as if he had been struck by lightning. D'Avrigny put his hand to his heart, and placed a glass before his lips. "Well?" said Villefort. "Go to the kitchen and get me some syrup of violets." Villefort went immediately.
Come and watch by the dead, and all the wretched family will be grateful to you." "I am going, sir; and I do not hesitate to say that no prayers will be more fervent than mine." D'Avrigny took the priest's hand, and without meeting Villefort, who was engaged in his study, they reached Valentine's room, which on the following night was to be occupied by the undertakers.
In the first place, she could see that the little family dinner to which she had been so kindly invited was attended by so many guests that her deep mourning seemed out of place among them. Then Madame d'Avrigny would make whispered explanations, which Jacqueline was conscious of, and which were very painful to her.
So Madame d'Avrigny had to take the part herself, not sorry to be able to superintend everything on the stage, and to prompt Dolly, if necessary Dolly, who had but four words to say, which she always forgot, but who looked lovely in a little cap as a femme de chambre.
The doctor of the dead then laid his permit on the corner of the table, and having fulfilled his duty, was conducted out by d'Avrigny. Villefort met them at the door of his study; having in a few words thanked the district doctor, he turned to d'Avrigny, and said, "And now the priest." "Is there any particular priest you wish to pray with Valentine?" asked d'Avrigny.
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