that, as she has no mother, she may at least have a grandmother to
bless her marriage. I am all that is left to her belonging to my poor
Renee, whom you have so soon forgotten, sir."

"Ah, madame," said Villefort, "you forget that I was obliged to give a
mother to my child."

"A stepmother is never a mother, sir. But this is not to the
purpose,--our business concerns Valentine, let us leave the dead in
peace."

All this was said with such exceeding rapidity, that there was something
in the conversation that seemed like the beginning of delirium.

"It shall be as you wish, madame," said Villefort; "more especially
since your wishes coincide with mine, and as soon as M. d'Epinay arrives
in Paris"--

"My dear grandmother," interrupted Valentine, "consider decorum--the
recent death. You would not have me marry under such sad auspices?"

"My child," exclaimed the old lady sharply, "let us hear none of the
conventional objections that deter weak minds from preparing for the
future. I also was married at the death-bed of my mother, and certainly
I have not been less happy on that account."

"Still that idea of death, madame," said Villefort.

"Still?--Always! I tell you I am going to die--do you understand? Well,
before dying, I wish to see my son-in-law. I wish to tell him to make
my child happy; I wish to read in his eyes whether he intends to obey
me;--in fact, I will know him--I will!" continued the old lady, with a
fearful expression, "that I may rise from the depths of my grave to find
him, if he should not fulfil his duty!"

"Madame," said Villefort, "you must lay aside these exalted ideas, which
almost assume the appearance of madness. The dead, once buried in their
graves, rise no more."

"And I tell you, sir, that you are mistaken. This night I have had a
fearful sleep. It seemed as though my soul were already hovering over my
body, my eyes, which I tried to open, closed against my will, and what
will appear impossible above all to you, sir, I saw, with my eyes shut,
in the spot where you are now standing, issuing from that corner where
there is a door leading into Madame Villefort's dressing-room--I saw, I
tell you, silently enter, a white figure." Valentine screamed. "It was
the fever that disturbed you, madame," said Villefort.

"Doubt, if you please, but I am sure of what I say. I saw a white
figure, and as if to prevent my discrediting the testimony of only one
of my senses, I heard my glass removed