cannot explain to you. Has the sun done anything for me? No; he
warms me with his rays, and it is by his light that I see you--nothing
more. Has such and such a perfume done anything for me? No; its odor
charms one of my senses--that is all I can say when I am asked why I
praise it. My friendship for him is as strange and unaccountable as
his for me. A secret voice seems to whisper to me that there must be
something more than chance in this unexpected reciprocity of friendship.
In his most simple actions, as well as in his most secret thoughts, I
find a relation to my own. You will perhaps smile at me when I tell you
that, ever since I have known this man, I have involuntarily entertained
the idea that all the good fortune which has befallen me originated
from him. However, I have managed to live thirty years without this
protection, you will say; but I will endeavor a little to illustrate my
meaning. He invited me to dine with him on Saturday, which was a very
natural thing for him to do. Well, what have I learned since? That your
mother and M. de Villefort are both coming to this dinner. I shall meet
them there, and who knows what future advantages may result from the
interview? This may appear to you to be no unusual combination of
circumstances; nevertheless, I perceive some hidden plot in the
arrangement--something, in fact, more than is apparent on a casual view
of the subject. I believe that this singular man, who appears to fathom
the motives of every one, has purposely arranged for me to meet M. and
Madame de Villefort, and sometimes, I confess, I have gone so far as to
try to read in his eyes whether he was in possession of the secret of
our love."

"My good friend," said Valentine, "I should take you for a visionary,
and should tremble for your reason, if I were always to hear you talk in
a strain similar to this. Is it possible that you can see anything
more than the merest chance in this meeting? Pray reflect a little.
My father, who never goes out, has several times been on the point
of refusing this invitation; Madame de Villefort, on the contrary, is
burning with the desire of seeing this extraordinary nabob in his own
house, therefore, she has with great difficulty prevailed on my father
to accompany her. No, no; it is as I have said, Maximilian,--there is no
one in the world of whom I can ask help but yourself and my grandfather,
who is little better than a corpse."

"I see that you are right, logica