ed the young girl so closely that she fancied
she heard his breath, and felt the pressure of his hand.

This time the illusion, or rather the reality, surpassed anything
Valentine had before experienced; she began to believe herself really
alive and awake, and the belief that her reason was this time not
deceived made her shudder. The pressure she felt was evidently intended
to arrest her arm, and she slowly withdrew it. Then the figure, from
whom she could not detach her eyes, and who appeared more protecting
than menacing, took the glass, and walking towards the night-light held
it up, as if to test its transparency. This did not seem sufficient;
the man, or rather the ghost--for he trod so softly that no sound was
heard--then poured out about a spoonful into the glass, and drank it.
Valentine witnessed this scene with a sentiment of stupefaction. Every
minute she had expected that it would vanish and give place to another
vision; but the man, instead of dissolving like a shadow, again
approached her, and said in an agitated voice, "Now you may drink."

Valentine shuddered. It was the first time one of these visions had
ever addressed her in a living voice, and she was about to utter an
exclamation. The man placed his finger on her lips. "The Count of Monte
Cristo!" she murmured.

It was easy to see that no doubt now remained in the young girl's mind
as to the reality of the scene; her eyes started with terror, her hands
trembled, and she rapidly drew the bedclothes closer to her. Still, the
presence of Monte Cristo at such an hour, his mysterious, fanciful, and
extraordinary entrance into her room through the wall, might well seem
impossibilities to her shattered reason. "Do not call any one--do not be
alarmed," said the Count; "do not let a shade of suspicion or uneasiness
remain in your breast; the man standing before you, Valentine (for this
time it is no ghost), is nothing more than the tenderest father and the
most respectful friend you could dream of."

Valentine could not reply; the voice which indicated the real presence
of a being in the room, alarmed her so much that she feared to utter a
syllable; still the expression of her eyes seemed to inquire, "If your
intentions are pure, why are you here?" The count's marvellous sagacity
understood all that was passing in the young girl's mind.

"Listen to me," he said, "or, rather, look upon me; look at my face,
paler even than usual, and my eyes, red with wear