's feeble light. A light moved rapidly from time to time past
three windows of the second floor. These three windows were in Madame de
Saint-Meran's room. Another remained motionless behind some red curtains
which were in Madame de Villefort's bedroom. Morrel guessed all this. So
many times, in order to follow Valentine in thought at every hour in the
day, had he made her describe the whole house, that without having seen
it he knew it all.

This darkness and silence alarmed Morrel still more than Valentine's
absence had done. Almost mad with grief, and determined to venture
everything in order to see Valentine once more, and be certain of the
misfortune he feared, Morrel gained the edge of the clump of trees, and
was going to pass as quickly as possible through the flower-garden, when
the sound of a voice, still at some distance, but which was borne upon
the wind, reached him.

At this sound, as he was already partially exposed to view, he stepped
back and concealed himself completely, remaining perfectly motionless.
He had formed his resolution. If it was Valentine alone, he would speak
as she passed; if she was accompanied, and he could not speak, still he
should see her, and know that she was safe; if they were strangers, he
would listen to their conversation, and might understand something of
this hitherto incomprehensible mystery. The moon had just then escaped
from behind the cloud which had concealed it, and Morrel saw Villefort
come out upon the steps, followed by a gentleman in black. They
descended, and advanced towards the clump of trees, and Morrel soon
recognized the other gentleman as Doctor d'Avrigny.

The young man, seeing them approach, drew back mechanically, until he
found himself stopped by a sycamore-tree in the centre of the clump;
there he was compelled to remain. Soon the two gentlemen stopped also.

"Ah, my dear doctor," said the procureur, "heaven declares itself
against my house! What a dreadful death--what a blow! Seek not to
console me; alas, nothing can alleviate so great a sorrow--the wound is
too deep and too fresh! Dead, dead!" The cold sweat sprang to the young
man's brow, and his teeth chattered. Who could be dead in that house,
which Villefort himself had called accursed? "My dear M. de Villefort,"
replied the doctor, with a tone which redoubled the terror of the young
man, "I have not led you here to console you; on the contrary"--

"What can you mean?" asked the procureur, alar