CHAPTER LXXIII
THE PROMISE
T was indeed Maximilian Morrel, who had passed a wretched existence since the previous day. With that instinct peculiar to lovers, he had anticipated, after the return of Madame de I Saint-Méran and the death of the marquis, that something would occur at Villefort's in connection with his love for Valentine. His presentiments were realized, as we shall see, and it was more than simple disquiet which led him, pale and trembling, to the gate under the chestnut-trees.
Valentine was ignorant of his presence, and as it was not his accustomed hour for visiting her, pure chance, or rather a happy sympathy, led her at the moment to that spot. Morrel called her, and she ran to the gate.
"You here at this hour?" said she.
"Yes, my poor girl," replied Morrel; "I come to bring and to hear bad tidings."
"This is indeed a house of mourning!" said Valentine; "speak, Maximilian, although the cup of sorrow seems already full."
"Dear Valentine," said Morrel, endeavoring to conceal his own emotion, "listen, I entreat you; what I am about to say is serious. When are you to be married?"
"I will tell you all," said Valentine; "from you I have nothing to conceal. This morning the subject was introduced, and my grandmother, on whom I depended as my only support, not only declared herself favorable to it, but is so anxious for it that they only await the arrival of M. d'Epinay, and the following day the contract will be signed."
A deep sigh escaped the young man, who gazed long and mournfully at her he loved.
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