pressed, but Valentine suffering,
weeping, wringing her hands before him, was more than he could bear in
silence. He sighed, and whispered a name, and the head bathed in tears
and pressed on the velvet cushion of the chair--a head like that of
a Magdalen by Correggio--was raised and turned towards him. Valentine
perceived him without betraying the least surprise. A heart overwhelmed
with one great grief is insensible to minor emotions. Morrel held out
his hand to her. Valentine, as her only apology for not having met him,
pointed to the corpse under the sheet, and began to sob again. Neither
dared for some time to speak in that room. They hesitated to break the
silence which death seemed to impose; at length Valentine ventured.

"My friend," said she, "how came you here? Alas, I would say you are
welcome, had not death opened the way for you into this house."

"Valentine," said Morrel with a trembling voice, "I had waited since
half-past eight, and did not see you come; I became uneasy, leaped the
wall, found my way through the garden, when voices conversing about the
fatal event"--

"What voices?" asked Valentine. Morrel shuddered as he thought of the
conversation of the doctor and M. de Villefort, and he thought he could
see through the sheet the extended hands, the stiff neck, and the purple
lips.

"Your servants," said he, "who were repeating the whole of the sorrowful
story; from them I learned it all."

"But it was risking the failure of our plan to come up here, love."

"Forgive me," replied Morrel; "I will go away."

"No," said Valentine, "you might meet some one; stay."

"But if any one should come here"--

The young girl shook her head. "No one will come," said she; "do not
fear, there is our safeguard," pointing to the bed.

"But what has become of M. d'Epinay?" replied Morrel.

"M. Franz arrived to sign the contract just as my dear grandmother was
dying."

"Alas," said Morrel with a feeling of selfish joy; for he thought this
death would cause the wedding to be postponed indefinitely. "But what
redoubles my sorrow," continued the young girl, as if this feeling was
to receive its immediate punishment, "is that the poor old lady, on
her death-bed, requested that the marriage might take place as soon as
possible; she also, thinking to protect me, was acting against me."

"Hark!" said Morrel. They both listened; steps were distinctly heard in
the corridor and on the stairs.

"It is my father, wh