We remember that the Abbe Busoni remained alone with Noirtier in the
chamber of death, and that the old man and the priest were the sole
guardians of the young girl's body. Perhaps it was the Christian
exhortations of the abbe, perhaps his kind charity, perhaps his
persuasive words, which had restored the courage of Noirtier, for ever
since he had conversed with the priest his violent despair had yielded
to a calm resignation which surprised all who knew his excessive
affection for Valentine. M. de Villefort had not seen his father since
the morning of the death. The whole establishment had been changed;
another valet was engaged for himself, a new servant for Noirtier, two
women had entered Madame de Villefort's service,--in fact, everywhere,
to the concierge and coachmen, new faces were presented to the different
masters of the house, thus widening the division which had always
existed between the members of the same family.
The assizes, also, were about to begin, and Villefort, shut up in his
room, exerted himself with feverish anxiety in drawing up the case
against the murderer of Caderousse. This affair, like all those in which
the Count of Monte Cristo had interfered, caused a great sensation in
Paris. The proofs were certainly not convincing, since they rested upon
a few words written by an escaped galley-slave on his death-bed, and who
might have been actuated by hatred or revenge in accusing his companion.
But the mind of the procureur was made up; he felt assured that
Benedetto was guilty, and he hoped by his skill in conducting this
aggravated case to flatter his self-love, which was about the only
vulnerable point left in his frozen heart.
The case was therefore prepared owing to the incessant labor of
Villefort, who wished it to be the first on the list in the coming
assizes. He had been obliged to seclude himself more than ever, to evade
the enormous number of applications presented to him for the purpose
of obtaining tickets of admission to the court on the day of trial. And
then so short a time had elapsed since the death of poor Valentine,
and the gloom which overshadowed the house was so recent, that no one
wondered to see the father so absorbed in his professional duties, which
were the only means he had of dissipating his grief.
Once only had Villefort seen his father; it was the day after that upon
which Bertuccio had paid his second visit to Benedetto, when the latter
was to learn his father's name. The magistrate, harassed and fatigued,
had descended to the garden of his house, and in a gloomy mood, similar
to that in which Tarquin lopped off the tallest poppies, he began
knocking off with his cane the long and dying branches of the
rose-trees, which, placed along the avenue, seemed like the spectres of
the brilliant flowers which had bloomed in the past season. More than
once he had reached that part of the garden where the famous boarded
gate stood overlooking the deserted enclosure, always returning by the
same path, to begin his walk again, at the same pace and with the same
gesture, when he accidentally turned his eyes towards the house, whence
he heard the noisy play of his son, who had returned from school to
spend the Sunday and Monday with his mother. While doing so, he observed
M. Noirtier at one of the open windows, where the old man had been
placed that he might enjoy the last rays of the sun which yet yielded
some heat, and was now shining upon the dying flowers and red leaves of
the creeper which twined around the balcony.
The eye of the old man was riveted upon a spot which Villefort could
scarcely distinguish. His glance was so full of hate, of ferocity, and
savage impatience, that Villefort turned out of the path he had been
pursuing, to see upon what person this dark look was directed. Then he
saw beneath a thick clump of linden-trees, which were nearly divested
of foliage, Madame de Villefort sitting with a book in her hand, the
perusal of which she frequently interrupted to smile upon her son, or
to throw back his elastic ball, which he obstinately threw from the
drawing-room into the garden. Villefort became pale; he understood the
old man's meaning. Noirtier continued to look at the same object, but
suddenly his glance was transferred from the wife to the husband, and
Villefort himself had to submit to the searching investigation of eyes,
which, while changing their direction and even their language, had lost
none of their menacing expression. Madame de Villefort, unconscious of
the passions that exhausted their fire over her head, at that moment
held her son's ball, and was making signs to him to reclaim it with a
kiss. Edward begged for a long while, the maternal kiss probably not
offering sufficient recompense for the trouble he must take to obtain
it; however at length he decided, leaped out of the window into a
cluster of heliotropes and daisies, and ran to his mother, his forehead
streaming with perspiration. Madame de Villefort wiped his forehead,
pressed her lips upon it, and sent him back with the ball in one hand
and some bonbons in the other.
Villefort, drawn by an irresistible attraction, like that of the bird to
the serpent, walked towards the house. As he approached it, Noirtier's
gaze followed him, and his eyes appeared of such a fiery brightness that
Villefort felt them pierce to the depths of his heart. In that earnest
look might be read a deep reproach, as well as a terrible menace. Then
Noirtier raised his eyes to heaven, as though to remind his son of a
forgotten oath. "It is well, sir," replied Villefort from below,--"it
is well; have patience but one day longer; what I have said I will do."
Noirtier seemed to be calmed by these words, and turned his eyes with
indifference to the other side. Villefort violently unbuttoned his
great-coat, which seemed to strangle him, and passing his livid hand
across his forehead, entered his study.
The night was cold and still; the family had all retired to rest but
Villefort, who alone remained up, and worked till five o'clock in the
morning, reviewing the last interrogatories made the night before by the
examining magistrates, compiling the depositions of the witnesses, and
putting the finishing stroke to the deed of accusation, which was one of
the most energetic and best conceived of any he had yet delivered.
The next day, Monday, was the first sitting of the assizes. The morning
dawned dull and gloomy, and Villefort saw the dim gray light shine upon
the lines he had traced in red ink. The magistrate had slept for a short
time while the lamp sent forth its final struggles; its flickerings
awoke him, and he found his fingers as damp and purple as though they
had been dipped in blood. He opened the window; a bright yellow streak
crossed the sky, and seemed to divide in half the poplars, which stood
out in black relief on the horizon. In the clover-fields beyond the
chestnut-trees, a lark was mounting up to heaven, while pouring out her
clear morning song. The damps of the dew bathed the head of Villefort,
and refreshed his memory. "To-day," he said with an effort,--"to-day the
man who holds the blade of justice must strike wherever there is guilt."
Involuntarily his eyes wandered towards the window of Noirtier's room,
where he had seen him the preceding night. The curtain was drawn, and
yet the image of his father was so vivid to his mind that he addressed
the closed window as though it had been open, and as if through the
opening he had beheld the menacing old man. "Yes," he murmured,--"yes,
be satisfied."
His head dropped upon his chest, and in this position he paced his
study; then he threw himself, dressed as he was, upon a sofa, less to
sleep than to rest his limbs, cramped with cold and study. By degrees
every one awoke. Villefort, from his study, heard the successive noises
which accompany the life of a house,--the opening and shutting of doors,
the ringing of Madame de Villefort's bell, to summon the waiting-maid,
mingled with the first shouts of the child, who rose full of the
enjoyment of his age. Villefort also rang; his new valet brought him the
papers, and with them a cup of chocolate.
"What are you bringing me?" said he.
"A cup of chocolate."
"I did not ask for it. Who has paid me this attention?"
"My mistress, sir. She said you would have to speak a great deal in
the murder case, and that you should take something to keep up your
strength;" and the valet placed the cup on the table nearest to the
sofa, which was, like all the rest, covered with papers. The valet then
left the room. Villefort looked for an instant with a gloomy expression,
then, suddenly, taking it up with a nervous motion, he swallowed its
contents at one draught. It might have been thought that he hoped the
beverage would be mortal, and that he sought for death to deliver him
from a duty which he would rather die than fulfil. He then rose, and
paced his room with a smile it would have been terrible to witness.
The chocolate was inoffensive, for M. de Villefort felt no effects. The
breakfast-hour arrived, but M. de Villefort was not at table. The valet
re-entered.
"Madame de Villefort wishes to remind you, sir," he said, "that eleven
o'clock has just struck, and that the trial commences at twelve."
"Well," said Villefort, "what then?"
"Madame de Villefort is dressed; she is quite ready, and wishes to know
if she is to accompany you, sir?"
"Where to?"
"To the Palais."
"What to do?"
"My mistress wishes much to be present at the trial."
"Ah," said Villefort, with a startling accent; "does she wish
that?"--The man drew back and said, "If you wish to go alone, sir, I
will go and tell my mistress." Villefort remained silent for a moment,
and dented his pale cheeks with his nails. "Tell your mistress," he at
length answered, "that I wish to speak to her, and I beg she will wait
for me in her own room."
"Yes, sir."
"Then come to dress and shave me."
"Directly, sir." The valet re-appeared almost instantly, and, having
shaved his master, assisted him to dress entirely in black. When he had
finished, he said,--
"My mistress said she should expect you, sir, as soon as you had
finished dressing."
"I am going to her." And Villefort, with his papers under his arm and
hat in hand, directed his steps toward the apartment of his wife. At the
door he paused for a moment to wipe his damp, pale brow. He then entered
the room. Madame de Villefort was sitting on an ottoman and impatiently
turning over the leaves of some newspapers and pamphlets which young
Edward, by way of amusing himself, was tearing to pieces before his
mother could finish reading them. She was dressed to go out, her bonnet
was placed beside her on a chair, and her gloves were on her hands.
"Ah, here you are, monsieur," she said in her naturally calm voice; "but
how pale you are! Have you been working all night? Why did you not come
down to breakfast? Well, will you take me, or shall I take Edward?"
Madame de Villefort had multiplied her questions in order to gain one
answer, but to all her inquiries M. de Villefort remained mute and cold
as a statue. "Edward," said Villefort, fixing an imperious glance on
the child, "go and play in the drawing-room, my dear; I wish to speak
to your mamma." Madame de Villefort shuddered at the sight of that cold
countenance, that resolute tone, and the awfully strange preliminaries.
Edward raised his head, looked at his mother, and then, finding that
she did not confirm the order, began cutting off the heads of his leaden
soldiers.
"Edward," cried M. de Villefort, so harshly that the child started up
from the floor, "do you hear me?--Go!" The child, unaccustomed to such
treatment, arose, pale and trembling; it would be difficult to say
whether his emotion were caused by fear or passion. His father went up
to him, took him in his arms, and kissed his forehead. "Go," he said:
"go, my child." Edward ran out. M. de Villefort went to the door, which
he closed behind the child, and bolted. "Dear me!" said the young woman,
endeavoring to read her husband's inmost thoughts, while a smile passed
over her countenance which froze the impassibility of Villefort; "what
is the matter?"
"Madame, where do you keep the poison you generally use?" said the
magistrate, without any introduction, placing himself between his wife
and the door.
Madame de Villefort must have experienced something of the sensation of
a bird which, looking up, sees the murderous trap closing over its head.
A hoarse, broken tone, which was neither a cry nor a sigh, escaped from
her, while she became deadly pale. "Monsieur," she said, "I--I do not
understand you." And, in her first paroxysm of terror, she had raised
herself from the sofa, in the next, stronger very likely than the other,
she fell down again on the cushions. "I asked you," continued Villefort,
in a perfectly calm tone, "where you conceal the poison by the aid
of which you have killed my father-in-law, M. de Saint-Meran, my
mother-in-law, Madame de Saint-Meran, Barrois, and my daughter
Valentine."
"Ah, sir," exclaimed Madame de Villefort, clasping her hands, "what do
you say?"
"It is not for you to interrogate, but to answer."
"Is it to the judge or to the husband?" stammered Madame de Villefort.
"To the judge--to the judge, madame!" It was terrible to behold the
frightful pallor of that woman, the anguish of her look, the trembling
of her whole frame. "Ah, sir," she muttered, "ah, sir," and this was
all.
"You do not answer, madame!" exclaimed the terrible interrogator. Then
he added, with a smile yet more terrible than his anger, "It is true,
then; you do not deny it!" She moved forward. "And you cannot deny it!"
added Villefort, extending his hand toward her, as though to seize her
in the name of justice. "You have accomplished these different crimes
with impudent address, but which could only deceive those whose
affections for you blinded them. Since the death of Madame de
Saint-Meran, I have known that a poisoner lived in my house. M.
d'Avrigny warned me of it. After the death of Barrois my suspicions were
directed towards an angel,--those suspicions which, even when there
is no crime, are always alive in my heart; but after the death of
Valentine, there has been no doubt in my mind, madame, and not only in
mine, but in those of others; thus your crime, known by two persons,
suspected by many, will soon become public, and, as I told you just now,
you no longer speak to the husband, but to the judge."
The young woman hid her face in her hands. "Oh, sir," she stammered, "I
beseech you, do not believe appearances."
"Are you, then, a coward?" cried Villefort, in a contemptuous voice.
"But I have always observed that poisoners were cowards. Can you be a
coward,--you who have had the courage to witness the death of two old
men and a young girl murdered by you?"
"Sir! sir!"
"Can you be a coward?" continued Villefort, with increasing excitement,
"you, who could count, one by one, the minutes of four death agonies?
You, who have arranged your infernal plans, and removed the beverages
with a talent and precision almost miraculous? Have you, then, who have
calculated everything with such nicety, have you forgotten to calculate
one thing--I mean where the revelation of your crimes will lead you to?
Oh, it is impossible--you must have saved some surer, more subtle and
deadly poison than any other, that you might escape the punishment
that you deserve. You have done this--I hope so, at least." Madame de
Villefort stretched out her hands, and fell on her knees.
"I understand," he said, "you confess; but a confession made to the
judges, a confession made at the last moment, extorted when the crime
cannot be denied, diminishes not the punishment inflicted on the
guilty!"
"The punishment?" exclaimed Madame de Villefort, "the punishment,
monsieur? Twice you have pronounced that word!"
"Certainly. Did you hope to escape it because you were four times
guilty? Did you think the punishment would be withheld because you are
the wife of him who pronounces it?--No, madame, no; the scaffold awaits
the poisoner, whoever she may be, unless, as I just said, the poisoner
has taken the precaution of keeping for herself a few drops of her
deadliest potion." Madame de Villefort uttered a wild cry, and a hideous
and uncontrollable terror spread over her distorted features. "Oh,
do not fear the scaffold, madame," said the magistrate; "I will not
dishonor you, since that would be dishonor to myself; no, if you have
heard me distinctly, you will understand that you are not to die on the
scaffold."
"No, I do not understand; what do you mean?" stammered the unhappy
woman, completely overwhelmed. "I mean that the wife of the first
magistrate in the capital shall not, by her infamy, soil an unblemished
name; that she shall not, with one blow, dishonor her husband and her
child."
"No, no--oh, no!"
"Well, madame, it will be a laudable action on your part, and I will
thank you for it!"
"You will thank me--for what?"
"For what you have just said."
"What did I say? Oh, my brain whirls; I no longer understand anything.
Oh, my God, my God!" And she rose, with her hair dishevelled, and her
lips foaming.
"Have you answered the question I put to you on entering the
room?--where do you keep the poison you generally use, madame?" Madame
de Villefort raised her arms to heaven, and convulsively struck one
hand against the other. "No, no," she vociferated, "no, you cannot wish
that!"
"What I do not wish, madame, is that you should perish on the scaffold.
Do you understand?" asked Villefort.
"Oh, mercy, mercy, monsieur!"
"What I require is, that justice be done. I am on the earth to punish,
madame," he added, with a flaming glance; "any other woman, were it the
queen herself, I would send to the executioner; but to you I shall be
merciful. To you I will say, 'Have you not, madame, put aside some of
the surest, deadliest, most speedy poison?'"
"Oh, pardon me, sir; let me live!"
"She is cowardly," said Villefort.
"Reflect that I am your wife!"
"You are a poisoner."
"In the name of heaven!"
"No!"
"In the name of the love you once bore me!"
"No, no!"
"In the name of our child! Ah, for the sake of our child, let me live!"
"No, no, no, I tell you; one day, if I allow you to live, you will
perhaps kill him, as you have the others!"
"I?--I kill my boy?" cried the distracted mother, rushing toward
Villefort; "I kill my son? Ha, ha, ha!" and a frightful, demoniac laugh
finished the sentence, which was lost in a hoarse rattle. Madame de
Villefort fell at her husband's feet. He approached her. "Think of it,
madame," he said; "if, on my return, justice his not been satisfied, I
will denounce you with my own mouth, and arrest you with my own hands!"
She listened, panting, overwhelmed, crushed; her eye alone lived, and
glared horribly. "Do you understand me?" he said. "I am going down there
to pronounce the sentence of death against a murderer. If I find you
alive on my return, you shall sleep to-night in the conciergerie."
Madame de Villefort sighed; her nerves gave way, and she sunk on the
carpet. The king's attorney seemed to experience a sensation of pity;
he looked upon her less severely, and, bowing to her, said slowly,
"Farewell, madame, farewell!" That farewell struck Madame de Villefort
like the executioner's knife. She fainted. The procureur went out, after
having double-locked the door.
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