man advanced, and the count
exclaimed--'Ah, here is the Baron Franz d'Epinay!' I summoned all my
strength and courage to my support. Perhaps I turned pale and trembled,
but certainly I smiled; and five minutes after I left, without having
heard one word that had passed."

"Poor Maximilian!" murmured Valentine.

"Valentine, the time has arrived when you must answer me. And remember
my life depends on your answer. What do you intend doing?" Valentine
held down her head; she was overwhelmed.

"Listen," said Morrel; "it is not the first time you have contemplated
our present position, which is a serious and urgent one; I do not think
it is a moment to give way to useless sorrow; leave that for those who
like to suffer at their leisure and indulge their grief in secret. There
are such in the world, and God will doubtless reward them in heaven for
their resignation on earth, but those who mean to contend must not lose
one precious moment, but must return immediately the blow which fortune
strikes. Do you intend to struggle against our ill-fortune? Tell me,
Valentine for it is that I came to know."

Valentine trembled, and looked at him with amazement. The idea of
resisting her father, her grandmother, and all the family, had never
occurred to her. "What do you say, Maximilian?" asked Valentine. "What
do you mean by a struggle? Oh, it would be a sacrilege. What? I resist
my father's order, and my dying grandmother's wish? Impossible!" Morrel
started. "You are too noble not to understand me, and you understand me
so well that you already yield, dear Maximilian. No, no; I shall need
all my strength to struggle with myself and support my grief in secret,
as you say. But to grieve my father--to disturb my grandmother's last
moments--never!"

"You are right," said Morrel, calmly.

"In what a tone you speak!" cried Valentine.

"I speak as one who admires you, mademoiselle."

"Mademoiselle," cried Valentine; "mademoiselle! Oh, selfish man,--he
sees me in despair, and pretends he cannot understand me!"

"You mistake--I understand you perfectly. You will not oppose M.
Villefort, you will not displease the marchioness, and to-morrow you
will sign the contract which will bind you to your husband."

"But, mon Dieu, tell me, how can I do otherwise?"

"Do not appeal to me, mademoiselle; I shall be a bad judge in such a
case; my selfishness will blind me," replied Morrel, whose low voice and
clinched hands announced his growing