The Count of Monte Cristo
alarmed at the idea suggested by you, that if caught hovering about
here your father would very likely have me sent to prison as a thief.
That would compromise the honor of the French army, to say nothing of
the fact that the continual presence of a captain of Spahis in a place
where no warlike projects could be supposed to account for it might
well create surprise; so I have become a gardener, and, consequently,
adopted the costume of my calling.”
“What excessive nonsense you talk, Maximilian!”
“Nonsense? Pray do not call what I consider the wisest action of my
life by such a name. Consider, by becoming a gardener I effectually
screen our meetings from all suspicion or danger.”
30053m
“I beseech of you, Maximilian, to cease trifling, and tell me what you
really mean.”
“Simply, that having ascertained that the piece of ground on which I
stand was to let, I made application for it, was readily accepted by
the proprietor, and am now master of this fine crop of lucern. Think of
that, Valentine! There is nothing now to prevent my building myself a
little hut on my plantation, and residing not twenty yards from you.
Only imagine what happiness that would afford me. I can scarcely
contain myself at the bare idea. Such felicity seems above all price—as
a thing impossible and unattainable. But would you believe that I
purchase all this delight, joy, and happiness, for which I would
cheerfully have surrendered ten years of my life, at the small cost of
500 francs per annum, paid quarterly? Henceforth we have nothing to
fear. I am on my own ground, and have an undoubted right to place a
ladder against the wall, and to look over when I please, without having
any apprehensions of being taken off by the police as a suspicious
character. I may also enjoy the precious privilege of assuring you of
my fond, faithful, and unalterable affection, whenever you visit your
favorite bower, unless, indeed, it offends your pride to listen to
professions of love from the lips of a poor workingman, clad in a
blouse and cap.”
A faint cry of mingled pleasure and surprise escaped from the lips of
Valentine, who almost instantly said, in a saddened tone, as though
some envious cloud darkened the joy which illumined her heart:
“Alas, no, Maximilian, this must not be, for many reasons. We should
presume too much on our own strength, and, like others, perhaps, be led
astray by our blind confidence in each other’s prudence.”
“How can you for an instant entertain so unworthy a thought, dear
Valentine? Have I not, from the first blessed hour of our acquaintance,
schooled all my words and actions to your sentiments and ideas? And you
have, I am sure, the fullest confidence in my honor. When you spoke to
me of experiencing a vague and indefinite sense of coming danger, I
placed myself blindly and devotedly at your service, asking no other
reward than the pleasure of being useful to you; and have I ever since,
by word or look, given you cause of regret for having selected me from
the numbers that would willingly have sacrificed their lives for you?
You told me, my dear Valentine, that you were engaged to M. d’Épinay,
and that your father was resolved upon completing the match, and that
from his will there was no appeal, as M. de Villefort was never known
to change a determination once formed. I kept in the background, as you
wished, and waited, not for the decision of your heart or my own, but
hoping that Providence would graciously interpose in our behalf, and
order events in our favor. But what cared I for delays or difficulties,
Valentine, as long as you confessed that you loved me, and took pity on
me? If you will only repeat that avowal now and then, I can endure
anything.”
“Ah, Maximilian, that is the very thing that makes you so bold, and
which renders me at once so happy and unhappy, that I frequently ask
myself whether it is better for me to endure the harshness of my
stepmother, and her blind preference for her own child, or to be, as I
now am, insensible to any pleasure save such as I find in these
meetings, so fraught with danger to both.”
“I will not admit that word,” returned the young man; “it is at once
cruel and unjust. Is it possible to find a more submissive slave than
myself? You have permitted me to converse with you from time to time,
Valentine, but forbidden my ever following you in your walks or
elsewhere—have I not obeyed? And since I found means to enter this
enclosure to exchange a few words with you through this gate—to be
close to you without really seeing you—have I ever asked so much as to
touch the hem of your gown or tried to pass this barrier which is but a
trifle to one of my youth and strength? Never has a complaint or a
murmur escaped me. I have been bound by my promises as rigidly as any
knight of olden times. Come, come, dearest Valentine, confess that what
I say is true, lest I be tempted to call you unjust.”
30055m
“It is true,” said Valentine, as she passed the end of her slender
fingers through a small opening in the planks, and permitted Maximilian
to press his lips to them, “and you are a true and faithful friend; but
still you acted from motives of self-interest, my dear Maximilian, for
you well knew that from the moment in which you had manifested an
opposite spirit all would have been ended between us. You promised to
bestow on me the friendly affection of a brother. For I have no friend
but yourself upon earth, who am neglected and forgotten by my father,
harassed and persecuted by my stepmother, and left to the sole
companionship of a paralyzed and speechless old man, whose withered
hand can no longer press mine, and who can speak to me with the eye
alone, although there still lingers in his heart the warmest tenderness
for his poor grandchild. Oh, how bitter a fate is mine, to serve either
as a victim or an enemy to all who are stronger than myself, while my
only friend and supporter is a living corpse! Indeed, indeed,
Maximilian, I am very miserable, and if you love me it must be out of
pity.”
“Valentine,” replied the young man, deeply affected, “I will not say
you are all I love in the world, for I dearly prize my sister and
brother-in-law; but my affection for them is calm and tranquil, in no
manner resembling what I feel for you. When I think of you my heart
beats fast, the blood burns in my veins, and I can hardly breathe; but
I solemnly promise you to restrain all this ardor, this fervor and
intensity of feeling, until you yourself shall require me to render
them available in serving or assisting you. M. Franz is not expected to
return home for a year to come, I am told; in that time many favorable
and unforeseen chances may befriend us. Let us, then, hope for the
best; hope is so sweet a comforter. Meanwhile, Valentine, while
reproaching me with selfishness, think a little what you have been to
me—the beautiful but cold resemblance of a marble Venus. What promise
of future reward have you made me for all the submission and obedience
I have evinced?—none whatever. What granted me?—scarcely more. You tell
me of M. Franz d’Épinay, your betrothed lover, and you shrink from the
idea of being his wife; but tell me, Valentine, is there no other
sorrow in your heart? You see me devoted to you, body and soul, my life
and each warm drop that circles round my heart are consecrated to your
service; you know full well that my existence is bound up in yours—that
were I to lose you I would not outlive the hour of such crushing
misery; yet you speak with calmness of the prospect of your being the
wife of another! Oh, Valentine, were I in your place, and did I feel
conscious, as you do, of being worshipped, adored, with such a love as
mine, a hundred times at least should I have passed my hand between
these iron bars, and said, ‘Take this hand, dearest Maximilian, and
believe that, living or dead, I am yours—yours only, and forever!’”
The poor girl made no reply, but her lover could plainly hear her sobs
and tears. A rapid change took place in the young man’s feelings.
“Dearest, dearest Valentine,” exclaimed he, “forgive me if I have
offended you, and forget the words I spoke if they have unwittingly
caused you pain.”
“No, Maximilian, I am not offended,” answered she, “but do you not see
what a poor, helpless being I am, almost a stranger and an outcast in
my father’s house, where even he is seldom seen; whose will has been
thwarted, and spirits broken, from the age of ten years, beneath the
iron rod so sternly held over me; oppressed, mortified, and persecuted,
day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, no person has cared for,
even observed my sufferings, nor have I ever breathed one word on the
subject save to yourself. Outwardly and in the eyes of the world, I am
surrounded by kindness and affection; but the reverse is the case. The
general remark is, ‘Oh, it cannot be expected that one of so stern a
character as M. Villefort could lavish the tenderness some fathers do
on their daughters. What though she has lost her own mother at a tender
age, she has had the happiness to find a second mother in Madame de
Villefort.’ The world, however, is mistaken; my father abandons me from
utter indifference, while my stepmother detests me with a hatred so
much the more terrible because it is veiled beneath a continual smile.”
“Hate you, sweet Valentine,” exclaimed the young man; “how is it
possible for anyone to do that?”
“Alas,” replied the weeping girl, “I am obliged to own that my
stepmother’s aversion to me arises from a very natural source—her
overweening love for her own child, my brother Edward.”
“But why should it?”
“I do not know; but, though unwilling to introduce money matters into
our present conversation, I will just say this much—that her extreme
dislike to me has its origin there; and I much fear she envies me the
fortune I enjoy in right of my mother, and which will be more than
doubled at the death of M. and Mme. de Saint-Méran, whose sole heiress
I am. Madame de Villefort has nothing of her own, and hates me for
being so richly endowed. Alas, how gladly would I exchange the half of
this wealth for the happiness of at least sharing my father’s love. God
knows, I would prefer sacrificing the whole, so that it would obtain me
a happy and affectionate home.”
“Poor Valentine!”
“I seem to myself as though living a life of bondage, yet at the same
time am so conscious of my own weakness that I fear to break the
restraint in which I am held, lest I fall utterly helpless. Then, too,
my father is not a person whose orders may be infringed with impunity;
protected as he is by his high position and firmly established
reputation for talent and unswerving integrity, no one could oppose
him; he is all-powerful even with the king; he would crush you at a
word. Dear Maximilian, believe me when I assure you that if I do not
attempt to resist my father’s commands it is more on your account than
my own.”
“But why, Valentine, do you persist in anticipating the worst,—why
picture so gloomy a future?”
“Because I judge it from the past.”
“Still, consider that although I may not be, strictly speaking, what is
termed an illustrious match for you, I am, for many reasons, not
altogether so much beneath your alliance. The days when such
distinctions were so nicely weighed and considered no longer exist in
France, and the first families of the monarchy have intermarried with
those of the empire. The aristocracy of the lance has allied itself
with the nobility of the cannon. Now I belong to this last-named class;
and certainly my prospects of military preferment are most encouraging
as well as certain. My fortune, though small, is free and unfettered,
and the memory of my late father is respected in our country,