"If it were otherwise—if he treated me diplomatically—that is to say, like a man who wishes, by some means or other, to obtain a footing in the house, so that he may ultimately gain the power of dictating to its occupants—he would, if it had been but once, have honored me with the smile which you extol so loudly; but no, he saw that I was unhappy, he understood that I could be of no use to him, and therefore paid no attention to me whatever.
Who knows but that, in order to please Madame de Villefort and my father, he may not persecute me by every means in his power?
It is not just that he should despise me so, without any reason.
Ah, forgive me," said Valentine, perceiving the effect which her words were producing on Maximilian: "I have done wrong, for I have given utterance to thoughts concerning that man which I did not even know existed in my heart.
I do not deny the influence of which you speak, or that I have not myself experienced it, but with me it has been productive of evil rather than good."
"Well, Valentine," said Morrel with a sigh, "we will not discuss the matter further.
I will not make a confidant of him."
"Alas," said Valentine, "I see that I have given you pain. I can only say how sincerely I ask pardon for having griefed you.
But, indeed, I am not prejudiced beyond the power of conviction. Tell me what this Count of Monte Cristo has done for you."
"I own that your question embarrasses me, Valentine, for I cannot say that the count has rendered me any ostensible service.
Still, as I have already told you I have an instinctive affection for him, the source of which I cannot explain to you.
Has the sun done anything for me?
No; he warms me with his rays, and it is by his light that I see you—nothing more.
Has such and such a perfume done anything for me?
No; its odor charms one of my senses—that is all I can say when I am asked why I praise it.
My friendship for him is as strange and unaccountable as his for me.
A secret voice seems to whisper to me that there must be something more than chance in this unexpected reciprocity of friendship.
In his most simple actions, as well as in his most secret thoughts, I find a relation to my own.
You will perhaps smile at me when I tell you that, ever since I have known this man, I have involuntarily entertained the idea that all the good fortune which has befallen me originated from him.
However, I have managed to live thirty years without this protection, you will say; but I will endeavor a little to illustrate my meaning.
He invited me to dine with him on Saturday, which was a very natural thing for him to do.
Well, what have I learned since?
That your mother and M. de Villefort are both coming to this dinner.
I shall meet them there, and who knows what future advantages may result from the interview?
This may appear to you to be no unusual combination of circumstances; nevertheless, I perceive some hidden plot in the arrangement—something, in fact, more than is apparent on a casual view of the subject.
I believe that this singular man, who appears to fathom the motives of every one, has purposely arranged for me to meet M. and Madame de Villefort, and sometimes, I confess, I have gone so far as to try to read in his eyes whether he was in possession of the secret of our love."
"My good friend," said Valentine, "I should take you for a visionary, and should tremble for your reason, if I were always to hear you talk in a strain similar to this.
Is it possible that you can see anything more than the merest chance in this meeting?
Pray reflect a little.
My father, who never goes out, has several times been on the point of refusing this invitation; Madame de Villefort, on the contrary, is burning with the desire of seeing this extraordinary nabob in his own house, therefore, she has with great difficulty prevailed on my father to accompany her.
No, no; it is as I have said, Maximilian,—there is no one in the world of whom I can ask help but yourself and my grandfather, who is little better than a corpse."
"I see that you are right, logically speaking," said Maximilian; "but the gentle voice which usually has such power over me fails to convince me to-day."
"I feel the same as regards yourself." said Valentine; "and I own that, if you have no stronger proof to give me"—
"I have another," replied Maximilian; "but I fear you will deem it even more absurd than the first."
"So much the worse," said Valentine, smiling.
"It is, nevertheless, conclusive to my mind. My ten years of service have also confirmed my ideas on the subject of sudden inspirations, for I have several times owed my life to a mysterious impulse which directed me to move at once either to the right or to the left, in order to escape the ball which killed the comrade fighting by my side, while it left me unharmed."
"Dear Maximilian, why not attribute your escape to my constant prayers for your safety?
When you are away, I no longer pray for myself, but for you."
"Yes, since you have known me," said Morrel, smiling; "but that cannot apply to the time previous to our acquaintance, Valentine."
"You are very provoking, and will not give me credit for anything; but let me hear this second proof, which you yourself own to be absurd."
"Well, look through this opening, and you will see the beautiful new horse which I rode here."
"Ah, what a beautiful creature!" cried Valentine; "why did you not bring him close to the gate, so that I could talk to him and pat him?"
"He is, as you see, a very valuable animal," said Maximilian. "You know that my means are limited, and that I am what would be designated a man of moderate pretensions.
Well, I went to a horse dealer's, where I saw this magnificent horse, which I have named Medeah.
I asked the price; they told me it was 4,500 francs. I was, therefore, obliged to give it up, as you may imagine, but I own I went away with rather a heavy heart, for the horse had looked at me affectionately, had rubbed his head against me and, when I mounted him, had pranced in the most delightful way imaginable, so that I was altogether fascinated with him.
The same evening some friends of mine visited me,—M. de Chateau-Renaud, M. Debray, and five or six other choice spirits, whom you do not know, even by name.
They proposed a game of bouillotte. I never play, for I am not rich enough to afford to lose, or sufficiently poor to desire to gain.
But I was at my own house, you understand, so there was nothing to be done but to send for the cards, which I did.
"Just as they were sitting down to table, M. de Monte Cristo arrived.
He took his seat amongst them; they played, and I won. I am almost ashamed to say that my gains amounted to 5,000 francs.