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"Gentlemen," said the physician quietly, "you know I am a sensible man; why should I try to tell you a fable?" "But I was at the funeral," stammered Flambois. "I also, and yet I tell you the dead woman lives," persisted D'Avigny, "or if we want to call it by its proper name, Valentine de Villefort is dead and the daughter of Naya and the Rajah Duttjah lives."
But one thing I can do; I can tell Valentine who she is, and Monsieur de Flambois and Monsieur d'Avigny will corroborate my words. Valentine, you, whom I have so often called daughter, look at me and listen to my words. You are the daughter of the Rajah Duttjah and his wife Naya.
"Monsieur de Flambois." "Oh, my former assistant," muttered the sick man, with a bitter smile. "Doctor, it is a question of rehabilitation. Tell Monsieur de Flambois to hurry up." "I will do so," said Fritz, after an interchange of looks with his father, and he immediately left the room.
As soon as Valentine's first grief subsided, the physician persuaded her to stay in her room for the rest of the night, while the gentlemen conferred about the wonderful confession they had heard. "If I only knew," said Flambois, thoughtfully, "what the papers written in the Indian language contain I "
Give me the papers and I will give you the translation to-morrow." "Here are the papers," said Flambois, thoughtfully. They then separated. The next day, as D'Avigny was sitting with his daughter, Julie, Valentine and Maximilian at table, a light knock was heard at the door, and in obedience to the summons to come in, Ali, Monte-Cristo's black servant, appeared on the threshold.
"I thought as much," muttered d'Avigny to himself, while Flambois looked at his former chief as if the latter were talking Sanscrit. "When I married Renee de St. Meran," continued Monsieur de Villefort, after a short pause, "I was a young and ambitious official. My wife was also ambitious, and we were fitted in that respect for one another.
Villefort gazed at Valentine as if she were a spectre; but tears fell on the young girl's cheeks, and his lean hands were crossed as if in prayer. "Father, dearly beloved father!" stammered Valentine, weepingly, "why do you not speak? Have you no word of welcome for your Valentine?" "Monsieur de Flambois, do you still doubt?" asked d'Avigny, softly.
The entrance of the servant, who announced the arrival of Monsieur de Flambois and Monsieur d'Avigny, put an end to the conversation. The old physician immediately conducted Monsieur de Flambois to the bedside of his patient, whose eyes lighted up when he recognized the district-attorney.
What would you think of a man who, to save himself, condemns another in cold blood to imprisonment for life." "I would call him a criminal," said Flambois solemnly. "Well, I am such a criminal.
"Monsieur de Flambois," interrupted young D'Avigny, modestly, "if you give me the documents I will translate them for you." "Really? How can you do it?" asked the district-attorney, doubtingly. "Very easily. Besides my profession as a doctor, I am an enthusiastic Orientalist. I am always in hopes of being able to go to India: the home of the lotus flower has always had attractions for me.
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