that attempts your life?"

"No," said Valentine; "who could desire my death?"

"You shall know it now, then," said Monte Cristo, listening.

"How do you mean?" said Valentine, looking anxiously around.

"Because you are not feverish or delirious to-night, but thoroughly
awake; midnight is striking, which is the hour murderers choose."

"Oh, heavens," exclaimed Valentine, wiping off the drops which ran down
her forehead. Midnight struck slowly and sadly; every hour seemed to
strike with leaden weight upon the heart of the poor girl. "Valentine,"
said the count, "summon up all your courage; still the beatings of your
heart; do not let a sound escape you, and feign to be asleep; then you
will see." Valentine seized the count's hand. "I think I hear a noise,"
she said; "leave me."

"Good-by, for the present," replied the count, walking upon tiptoe
towards the library door, and smiling with an expression so sad and
paternal that the young girl's heart was filled with gratitude.
Before closing the door he turned around once more, and said, "Not a
movement--not a word; let them think you asleep, or perhaps you may be
killed before I have the power of helping you." And with this fearful
injunction the count disappeared through the door, which noiselessly
closed after him.

Chapter 101. Locusta.

Valentine was alone; two other clocks, slower than that of
Saint-Philippe du Roule, struck the hour of midnight from different
directions, and excepting the rumbling of a few carriages all was
silent. Then Valentine's attention was engrossed by the clock in her
room, which marked the seconds. She began counting them, remarking that
they were much slower than the beatings of her heart; and still she
doubted,--the inoffensive Valentine could not imagine that any one
should desire her death. Why should they? To what end? What had she
done to excite the malice of an enemy? There was no fear of her falling
asleep. One terrible idea pressed upon her mind,--that some one existed
in the world who had attempted to assassinate her, and who was about
to endeavor to do so again. Supposing this person, wearied at the
inefficacy of the poison, should, as Monte Cristo intimated, have
recourse to steel!--What if the count should have no time to run to her
rescue!--What if her last moments were approaching, and she should never
again see Morrel! When this terrible chain of ideas presented itself,
Valentine was nearly persuaded to ring the