ed. Then taking
a passport from his drawer he said,--"Good, it is available for two
months longer."

Chapter 105. The Cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise.

M. de Boville had indeed met the funeral procession which was taking
Valentine to her last home on earth. The weather was dull and stormy, a
cold wind shook the few remaining yellow leaves from the boughs of the
trees, and scattered them among the crowd which filled the boulevards.
M. de Villefort, a true Parisian, considered the cemetery of
Pere-la-Chaise alone worthy of receiving the mortal remains of a
Parisian family; there alone the corpses belonging to him would be
surrounded by worthy associates. He had therefore purchased a vault,
which was quickly occupied by members of his family. On the front of the
monument was inscribed: "The families of Saint-Meran and Villefort," for
such had been the last wish expressed by poor Renee, Valentine's mother.
The pompous procession therefore wended its way towards Pere-la-Chaise
from the Faubourg Saint-Honore. Having crossed Paris, it passed through
the Faubourg du Temple, then leaving the exterior boulevards, it reached
the cemetery. More than fifty private carriages followed the twenty
mourning-coaches, and behind them more than five hundred persons joined
in the procession on foot.

These last consisted of all the young people whom Valentine's death had
struck like a thunderbolt, and who, notwithstanding the raw chilliness
of the season, could not refrain from paying a last tribute to the
memory of the beautiful, chaste, and adorable girl, thus cut off in the
flower of her youth. As they left Paris, an equipage with four horses,
at full speed, was seen to draw up suddenly; it contained Monte Cristo.
The count left the carriage and mingled in the crowd who followed on
foot. Chateau-Renaud perceived him and immediately alighting from his
coupe, joined him.

The count looked attentively through every opening in the crowd; he was
evidently watching for some one, but his search ended in disappointment.
"Where is Morrel?" he asked; "do either of these gentlemen know where he
is?"

"We have already asked that question," said Chateau-Renaud, "for none
of us has seen him." The count was silent, but continued to gaze around
him. At length they arrived at the cemetery. The piercing eye of Monte
Cristo glanced through clusters of bushes and trees, and was soon
relieved from all anxiety, for seeing a shadow glide between the
yew-t