He had formed his resolution; if it was Valentine alone, he would speak as she passed; if she was accompanied, and he could not speak, still he should see her, and know that she was safe; if they were strangers, he would listen to their conversation, and might understand something of this hitherto incomprehensible mystery.
The moon had just then escaped from behind the cloud which had concealed it, and Morrel saw Villefort come out upon the steps, followed by a gentleman in black. They descended and advanced toward the clump of trees, and Morrel soon recognized the other gentleman as Doctor d'Avrigny.
The young man, seeing them approach, drew back mechanically until he found himself stopped by a sycamore-tree in the center of the clump; there he was compelled to remain. Soon the two gentlemen stopped also.
"Ah, my dear doctor," said the procureur, "Heaven declares itself against my house! What a dreadful death―what a blow! Seek not to console me; alas! nothing can alleviate so great a sorrow―the wound is too deep and too fresh! She is dead! she is dead!"
A cold dampness covered the young man's brow, and his teeth chattered. Who could be dead in that house, which Villefort himself had called accursed?
"My dear M. de Villefort," replied the doctor, with a tone which redoubled the terror of the young man, "I have not led you here to console you; on the contrary"
"What can you mean?" asked the procureur, alarmed.
"I mean that, behind the misfortune which has just happened to you, there is another, perhaps, still greater."
"Can it be possible?" murmured Villefort, clasping his hands. "What are you going to tell me?"
"Are we quite alone, my friend?"
"Yes, quite; but why all these precautions?"
"Because I have a terrible secret to communicate to you," said the doctor. "Let us sit down."
Villefort fell, rather than seated himself. The doctor stood before him, with one hand placed on his shoulder. Morrel, horrified, supported his head with one hand, and with the other pressed his heart, lest its beatings should be heard. "Dead! dead!" repeated he within himself; and he felt as if he were also dying.
"Speak, doctor―I am listening," said Villefort; "strike―I am prepared for everything!"
"Madame de Saint-Méran was, doubtless, advancing in years, but she enjoyed excellent health." Morrel began again to breathe freely, which he had not done the last ten minutes.
