ompliments were over, "what is the
matter with you, M. de Villefort? Have I arrived at the moment when you
were drawing up an indictment for a capital crime?" Villefort tried to
smile. "No, count," he replied, "I am the only victim in this case. It
is I who lose my cause, and it is ill-luck, obstinacy, and folly which
have caused it to be decided against me."

"To what do you refer?" said Monte Cristo with well-feigned interest.
"Have you really met with some great misfortune?"

"Oh, no, monsieur," said Villefort with a bitter smile; "it is only a
loss of money which I have sustained--nothing worth mentioning, I assure
you."

"True," said Monte Cristo, "the loss of a sum of money becomes almost
immaterial with a fortune such as you possess, and to one of your
philosophic spirit."

"It is not so much the loss of the money that vexes me," said Villefort,
"though, after all, 900,000 francs are worth regretting; but I am the
more annoyed with this fate, chance, or whatever you please to call the
power which has destroyed my hopes and my fortune, and may blast the
prospects of my child also, as it is all occasioned by an old man
relapsed into second childhood."

"What do you say?" said the count; "900,000 francs? It is indeed a sum
which might be regretted even by a philosopher. And who is the cause of
all this annoyance?"

"My father, as I told you."

"M. Noirtier? But I thought you told me he had become entirely
paralyzed, and that all his faculties were completely destroyed?"

"Yes, his bodily faculties, for he can neither move nor speak,
nevertheless he thinks, acts, and wills in the manner I have described.
I left him about five minutes ago, and he is now occupied in dictating
his will to two notaries."

"But to do this he must have spoken?"

"He has done better than that--he has made himself understood."

"How was such a thing possible?"

"By the help of his eyes, which are still full of life, and, as you
perceive, possess the power of inflicting mortal injury."

"My dear," said Madame de Villefort, who had just entered the room,
"perhaps you exaggerate the evil."

"Good-morning, madame," said the count, bowing. Madame de Villefort
acknowledged the salutation with one of her most gracious smiles. "What
is this that M. de Villefort has been telling me?" demanded Monte Cristo
"and what incomprehensible misfortune"--

"Incomprehensible is not the word," interrupted the procureur, shrugging
his shoulder