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Thenight–lightcontinuedtoburnonthechimney–piece,exhaustingthelastdropsofoilwhichfloatedonthesurfaceofthewater.
Theglobeofthelampappearedofareddishhue,andtheflame,brighteningbeforeitexpired,threwoutthelastflickeringswhichinaninanimateobjecthavebeensooftencomparedwiththeconvulsionsofahumancreatureinitsfinalagonies.
Adullanddismallightwasshedoverthebedclothesandcurtainssurroundingtheyounggirl.
Allnoiseinthestreetshadceased,andthesilencewasfrightful.
ItwasthenthatthedoorofEdward’sroomopened,andaheadwehavebeforenoticedappearedintheglassopposite;itwasMadamedeVillefort,whocametowitnesstheeffectsofthedrinkshehadprepared.
Shestoppedinthedoorway,listenedforamomenttotheflickeringofthelamp,theonlysoundinthatdesertedroom,andthenadvancedtothetabletoseeifValentine’sglasswereempty.
Itwasstillaboutaquarterfull,aswebeforestated.
MadamedeVillefortemptiedthecontentsintotheashes,whichshedisturbedthattheymightthemorereadilyabsorbtheliquid;thenshecarefullyrinsedtheglass,andwipingitwithherhandkerchiefreplaceditonthetable.
IfanyonecouldhavelookedintotheroomjustthenhewouldhavenoticedthehesitationwithwhichMadamedeVillefortapproachedthebedandlookedfixedlyonValentine.
Thedimlight,theprofoundsilence,andthegloomythoughtsinspiredbythehour,andstillmorebyherownconscience,allcombinedtoproduceasensationoffear;thepoisonerwasterrifiedatthecontemplationofherownwork.
Atlengthsherallied,drewasidethecurtain,andleaningoverthepillowgazedintentlyonValentine.
Theyounggirlnolongerbreathed,nobreathissuedthroughthehalf–closedteeth;thewhitelipsnolongerquivered—theeyesweresuffusedwithabluishvapor,andthelongblacklashesrestedonacheekwhiteaswax.
MadamedeVillefortgazeduponthefacesoexpressiveeveninitsstillness;thensheventuredtoraisethecoverletandpressherhandupontheyounggirl’sheart.Itwascoldandmotionless.
Sheonlyfeltthepulsationinherownfingers,andwithdrewherhandwithashudder.
Onearmwashangingoutofthebed;fromshouldertoelbowitwasmouldedafterthearmsofGermainPillon’s“Graces,”[*]butthefore–armseemedtobeslightlydistortedbyconvulsion,andthehand,sodelicatelyformed,wasrestingwithstiffoutstretchedfingersontheframeworkofthebed.
Thenails,too,wereturningblue.MadamedeVilleforthadnolongeranydoubt;allwasover—shehadconsummatedthelastterribleworkshehadtoaccomplish.
Therewasnomoretodointheroom,sothepoisonerretiredstealthily,asthoughfearingtohearthesoundofherownfootsteps;butasshewithdrewshestillheldasidethecurtain,absorbedintheirresistibleattractionalwaysexertedbythepictureofdeath,solongasitismerelymysteriousanddoesnotexcitedisgust.
Justthenthelampagainflickered;thenoisestartledMadamedeVillefort,whoshudderedanddroppedthecurtain.
Immediatelyafterwardsthelightexpired,andtheroomwasplungedinfrightfulobscurity,whiletheclockatthatminutestruckhalf–pastfour.
Overpoweredwithagitation,thepoisonersucceededingropingherwaytothedoor,andreachedherroominanagonyoffear.
*GermainPillonwasafamousFrenchsculptor(1535–1598).
Hisbestknownworkis“TheThreeGraces,”nowintheLouvre.
Thedarknesslastedtwohourslonger;thenbydegreesacoldlightcreptthroughtheVenetianblinds,untilatlengthitrevealedtheobjectsintheroom.
Aboutthistimethenurse’scoughwasheardonthestairsandthewomanenteredtheroomwithacupinherhand.
Tothetendereyeofafatheroralover,thefirstglancewouldhavesufficedtorevealValentine’scondition;buttothishireling,Valentineonlyappearedtosleep.
“Good,”sheexclaimed,approachingthetable,“shehastakenpartofherdraught;theglassisthree–quartersempty.”
Thenshewenttothefireplaceandlitthefire,andalthoughshehadjustleftherbed,shecouldnotresistthetemptationofferedbyValentine’ssleep,soshethrewherselfintoanarm–chairtosnatchalittlemorerest.Theclockstrikingeightawokeher.
Astonishedattheprolongedslumberofthepatient,andfrightenedtoseethatthearmwasstillhangingoutofthebed,sheadvancedtowardsValentine,andforthefirsttimenoticedthewhitelips.
Shetriedtoreplacethearm,butitmovedwithafrightfulrigiditywhichcouldnotdeceiveasick–nurse.
Shescreamedaloud;thenrunningtothedoorexclaimed,—”Help,help!”
“Whatisthematter?”askedM.d’Avrigny,atthefootofthestairs,itbeingthehourheusuallyvisitedher.
“Whatisit?”askedVillefort,rushingfromhisroom.“Doctor,doyouhearthemcallforhelp?”
“Yes,yes;letushastenup;itwasinValentine’sroom.”
Butbeforethedoctorandthefathercouldreachtheroom,theservantswhowereonthesamefloorhadentered,andseeingValentinepaleandmotionlessonherbed,theylifteduptheirhandstowardsheavenandstoodtransfixed,asthoughstruckbylightening.“CallMadamedeVillefort!—wakeMadamedeVillefort!”
criedtheprocureurfromthedoorofhischamber,whichapparentlyhescarcelydaredtoleave.
Butinsteadofobeyinghim,theservantsstoodwatchingM.d’Avrigny,whorantoValentine,andraisedherinhisarms.“What?—thisone,too?”heexclaimed.“Oh,wherewillbetheend?”Villefortrushedintotheroom.“Whatareyousaying,doctor?”
heexclaimed,raisinghishandstoheaven.
“IsaythatValentineisdead!”repliedd’Avrigny,inavoiceterribleinitssolemncalm.
M.deVillefortstaggeredandburiedhisheadinthebed.
Ontheexclamationofthedoctorandthecryofthefather,theservantsallfledwithmutteredimprecations;theywereheardrunningdownthestairsandthroughthelongpassages,thentherewasarushinthecourt,afterwardsallwasstill;theyhad,oneandall,desertedtheaccursedhouse.
Justthen,MadamedeVillefort,intheactofslippingonherdressing–gown,threwasidethedraperyandforamomentstoodmotionless,asthoughinterrogatingtheoccupantsoftheroom,whilesheendeavoredtocallupsomerebellioustears.
Onasuddenshestepped,orratherbounded,withoutstretchedarms,towardsthetable.
Shesawd’Avrignycuriouslyexaminingtheglass,whichshefeltcertainofhavingemptiedduringthenight.
Itwasnowathirdfull,justasitwaswhenshethrewthecontentsintotheashes.
ThespectreofValentinerisingbeforethepoisonerwouldhavealarmedherless.
Itwas,indeed,thesamecolorasthedraughtshehadpouredintotheglass,andwhichValentinehaddrank;itwasindeedthepoison,whichcouldnotdeceiveM.d’Avrigny,whichhenowexaminedsoclosely;itwasdoubtlessamiraclefromheaven,that,notwithstandingherprecautions,thereshouldbesometrace,someproofremainingtorevealthecrime.
WhileMadamedeVillefortremainedrootedtothespotlikeastatueofterror,andVillefort,withhisheadhiddeninthebedclothes,sawnothingaroundhim,d’Avrignyapproachedthewindow,thathemightthebetterexaminethecontentsoftheglass,anddippingthetipofhisfingerin,tastedit.
“Ah,”heexclaimed,“itisnolongerbrucinethatisused;letmeseewhatitis!”
ThenherantooneofthecupboardsinValentine’sroom,whichhadbeentransformedintoamedicinecloset,andtakingfromitssilvercaseasmallbottleofnitricacid,droppedalittleofitintotheliquor,whichimmediatelychangedtoablood–redcolor.
“Ah,”exclaimedd’Avrigny,inavoiceinwhichthehorrorofajudgeunveilingthetruthwasmingledwiththedelightofastudentmakingadiscovery.
MadamedeVillefortwasoverpowered,hereyesfirstflashedandthenswam,shestaggeredtowardsthedooranddisappeared.
Directlyafterwardsthedistantsoundofaheavyweightfallingonthegroundwasheard,butnoonepaidanyattentiontoit;thenursewasengagedinwatchingthechemicalanalysis,andVillefortwasstillabsorbedingrief.
M.d’AvrignyalonehadfollowedMadamedeVillefortwithhiseyes,andwatchedherhurriedretreat.
HeliftedupthedraperyovertheentrancetoEdward’sroom,andhiseyereachingasfarasMadamedeVillefort’sapartment,hebeheldherextendedlifelessonthefloor.
“GototheassistanceofMadamedeVillefort,”hesaidtothenurse.“MadamedeVillefortisill.”
“ButMademoiselledeVillefort”—stammeredthenurse.
“MademoiselledeVillefortnolongerrequireshelp,”saidd’Avrigny,“sincesheisdead.”
“Dead,—dead!”groanedforthVillefort,inaparoxysmofgrief,whichwasthemoreterriblefromthenoveltyofthesensationintheironheartofthatman.
“Dead!”repeatedathirdvoice.“WhosaidValentinewasdead?”
Thetwomenturnedround,andsawMorrelstandingatthedoor,paleandterror–stricken.Thisiswhathadhappened.
Attheusualtime,MorrelhadpresentedhimselfatthelittledoorleadingtoNoirtier’sroom.
Contrarytocustom,thedoorwasopen,andhavingnooccasiontoringheentered.
HewaitedforamomentinthehallandcalledforaservanttoconducthimtoM.Noirtier;butnooneanswered,theservantshaving,asweknow,desertedthehouse.
Morrelhadnoparticularreasonforuneasiness;MonteCristohadpromisedhimthatValentineshouldlive,andsofarhehadalwaysfulfilledhisword.
Everynightthecounthadgivenhimnews,whichwasthenextmorningconfirmedbyNoirtier.
Stillthisextraordinarysilenceappearedstrangetohim,andhecalledasecondandthirdtime;stillnoanswer.Thenhedeterminedtogoup.
Noirtier’sroomwasopened,likealltherest.
Thefirstthinghesawwastheoldmansittinginhisarm–chairinhisusualplace,buthiseyesexpressedalarm,whichwasconfirmedbythepallorwhichoverspreadhisfeatures.
“Howareyou,sir?”askedMorrel,withasicknessofheart.
“Well,”answeredtheoldman,byclosinghiseyes;buthisappearancemanifestedincreasinguneasiness.
“Youarethoughtful,sir,”continuedMorrel;“youwantsomething;shallIcalloneoftheservants?”
“Yes,”repliedNoirtier.
Morrelpulledthebell,butthoughhenearlybrokethecordnooneanswered.HeturnedtowardsNoirtier;thepallorandanguishexpressedonhiscountenancemomentarilyincreased.
“Oh,”exclaimedMorrel,“whydotheynotcome?Isanyoneillinthehouse?”
TheeyesofNoirtierseemedasthoughtheywouldstartfromtheirsockets.“Whatisthematter?Youalarmme.Valentine?Valentine?”
“Yes,yes,”signedNoirtier.Maximiliantriedtospeak,buthecouldarticulatenothing;hestaggered,andsupportedhimselfagainstthewainscot.Thenhepointedtothedoor.
“Yes,yes,yes!”continuedtheoldman.Maximilianrushedupthelittlestaircase,whileNoirtier’seyesseemedtosay,—”Quicker,quicker!”
Inaminutetheyoungmandartedthroughseveralrooms,tillatlengthhereachedValentine’s.
Therewasnooccasiontopushthedoor,itwaswideopen.Asobwastheonlysoundheheard.
Hesawasthoughinamist,ablackfigurekneelingandburiedinaconfusedmassofwhitedrapery.Aterriblefeartransfixedhim.
Itwasthenheheardavoiceexclaim“Valentineisdead!”
andanothervoicewhich,likeanechorepeated,—”Dead,—dead!”
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