so well that you already yield, dear Maximilian. No, no! I shall all my strength to struggle with myself and support my grief in secret, as you say. But to grieve my father—to disturb my grandmother's last moments—never!"
"You are right," said Morrel, calmly.
"In what a tone you speak!" cried Valentine.
"I speak as one who admires you, mademoiselle."
"Mademoiselle!" cried Valentine; "mademoiselle! Oh, selfish man! he sees me in despair, and pretends he cannot understand me!"
"You mistake—I understand you perfectly. You will not oppose M. Villefort; you will not displease the marchioness; and to-morrow you will sign the contract which will bind you to your husband."
"But, tell me, how can I do otherwise?"
"Do not appeal to me, mademoiselle; I shall be a bad judge in such a case; my selfishness will blind me," replied Morrel, whose low voice and clenched hands announced his growing desperation.
"What would you have proposed, Morrel, had you found me willing to accede to your proposition? It is not enough to say, 'You are wrong'; you must advise me what to do."
"Do you seriously ask my advice, Valentine?"
"Certainly, dear Maximilian, for if it is good, I will follow it; you know my devotion to you."
"Valentine," said Morrel, pushing aside a plank that was split, "give me your hand in token of forgiveness of my anger; my senses are con fused, and during the last hour the most extravagant thoughts have passed through my brain. Oh, if you refuse my advice"
"What do you advise?" said Valentine, raising her eyes to heaven, and sighing.
"I advise this; I am free," replied Maximilian, "and rich enough for two. I swear to make you my wife before my lips even shall have touched your forehead."
"You make me tremble!" said the young girl.
"Follow me," said Morrel; "I will take you to my sister, who is worthy also to be yours. We will embark for Algiers, for England, for America, or, if you prefer it, retire to the country, and only return to Paris when our friends have reconciled your family."
Valentine shook her head.
"I feared it, Maximilian," said she; "it is the counsel of a madman. and I should be more mad than you, did I not stop you at once with the word 'Impossible, Morrel, impossible!'"
"You will then submit to what fate decrees for you without even attempting to contend with it?" said Morrel, sorrowfully.
