n to the heart!"

Morrel groaned. "Come, come," continued the count, "complaints are
unavailing, be a man, be strong, be full of hope, for I am here and will
watch over you." Morrel shook his head sorrowfully. "I tell you to
hope. Do you understand me?" cried Monte Cristo. "Remember that I
never uttered a falsehood and am never deceived. It is twelve o'clock,
Maximilian; thank heaven that you came at noon rather than in the
evening, or to-morrow morning. Listen, Morrel--it is noon; if Valentine
is not now dead, she will not die."

"How so?" cried Morrel, "when I left her dying?" Monte Cristo pressed
his hands to his forehead. What was passing in that brain, so loaded
with dreadful secrets? What does the angel of light or the angel of
darkness say to that mind, at once implacable and generous? God only
knows.

Monte Cristo raised his head once more, and this time he was calm as
a child awaking from its sleep. "Maximilian," said he, "return home. I
command you not to stir--attempt nothing, not to let your countenance
betray a thought, and I will send you tidings. Go."

"Oh, count, you overwhelm me with that coolness. Have you, then, power
against death? Are you superhuman? Are you an angel?" And the young
man, who had never shrunk from danger, shrank before Monte Cristo with
indescribable terror. But Monte Cristo looked at him with so melancholy
and sweet a smile, that Maximilian felt the tears filling his eyes.
"I can do much for you, my friend," replied the count. "Go; I must be
alone." Morrel, subdued by the extraordinary ascendancy Monte Cristo
exercised over everything around him, did not endeavor to resist it. He
pressed the count's hand and left. He stopped one moment at the door for
Baptistin, whom he saw in the Rue Matignon, and who was running.

Meanwhile, Villefort and d'Avrigny had made all possible haste,
Valentine had not revived from her fainting fit on their arrival, and
the doctor examined the invalid with all the care the circumstances
demanded, and with an interest which the knowledge of the secret
intensified twofold. Villefort, closely watching his countenance and his
lips, awaited the result of the examination. Noirtier, paler than even
the young girl, more eager than Villefort for the decision, was watching
also intently and affectionately. At last d'Avrigny slowly uttered these
words:--"she is still alive!"

"Still?" cried Villefort; "oh, doctor, what a dreadful word is that."

"Yes," said