"Have mercy on my child, sir," murmured Villefort.
"You see it is yourself who have first named her--you, her father."
"Have pity on Valentine!
Listen--it is impossible!
I would as willingly accuse myself!
Valentine, whose heart is pure as a diamond or a lily."
"No pity, procureur; the crime is fragrant.
Mademoiselle herself packed all the medicines which were sent to M. de Saint-Meran; and M. de Saint-Meran is dead.
Mademoiselle de Villefort prepared all the cooling draughts which Madame de Saint-Meran took, and Madame de Saint-Meran is dead.
Mademoiselle de Villefort took from the hands of Barrois, who was sent out, the lemonade which M. Noirtier had every morning, and he has escaped by a miracle.
Mademoiselle de Villefort is the culprit--she is the poisoner!
To you, as the king's attorney, I denounce Mademoiselle de Villefort, do your duty."
"Doctor, I resist no longer--I can no longer defend myself--I believe you; but, for pity's sake, spare my life, my honor!"
"M. de Villefort," replied the doctor, with increased vehemence, "there are occasions when I dispense with all foolish human circumspection.
If your daughter had committed only one crime, and I saw her meditating another, I would say 'Warn her, punish her, let her pass the remainder of her life in a convent, weeping and praying.'
If she had committed two crimes, I would say, 'Here, M. de Villefort, is a poison that the prisoner is not acquainted with,--one that has no known antidote, quick as thought, rapid as lightning, mortal as the thunderbolt; give her that poison, recommending her soul to God, and save your honor and your life, for it is yours she aims at; and I can picture her approaching your pillow with her hypocritical smiles and her sweet exhortations.
Woe to you, M. de Villefort, if you do not strike first!'
This is what I would say had she only killed two persons but she has seen three deaths,--has contemplated three murdered persons,--has knelt by three corpses!
To the scaffold with the poisoner--to the scaffold!
Do you talk of your honor? Do what I tell you, and immortality awaits you!"
Villefort fell on his knees.
"Listen," said he; "I have not the strength of mind you have, or rather that which you would not have, if instead of my daughter Valentine your daughter Madeleine were concerned."
The doctor turned pale.
"Doctor, every son of woman is born to suffer and to die; I am content to suffer and to await death."
"Beware," said M. d'Avrigny, "it may come slowly; you will see it approach after having struck your father, your wife, perhaps your son."
Villefort, suffocating, pressed the doctor's arm.
"Listen," cried he; "pity me--help me! No, my daughter is not guilty. If you drag us both before a tribunal I will still say, 'No, my daughter is not guilty;--there is no crime in my house. I will not acknowledge a crime in my house; for when crime enters a dwelling, it is like death--it does not come alone.'
Listen. What does it signify to you if I am murdered?
Are you my friend?
Are you a man?
Have you a heart?
No, you are a physician!
Well, I tell you I will not drag my daughter before a tribunal, and give her up to the executioner!
The bare idea would kill me--would drive me like a madman to dig my heart out with my finger-nails!
And if you were mistaken, doctor--if it were not my daughter--if I should come one day, pale as a spectre, and say to you, 'Assassin, you have killed my child!'--hold--if that should happen, although I am a Christian, M. d'Avrigny, I should kill myself."
"Well," said the doctor, after a moment's silence, "I will wait."
Villefort looked at him as if he had doubted his words.
"Only," continued M. d'Avrigny, with a slow and solemn tone, "if any one falls ill in your house, if you feel yourself attacked, do not send for me, for I will come no more.
I will consent to share this dreadful secret with you, but I will not allow shame and remorse to grow and increase in my conscience, as crime and misery will in your house."
"Then you abandon me, doctor?"
"Yes, for I can follow you no farther, and I only stop at the foot of the scaffold.
Some further discovery will be made, which will bring this dreadful tragedy to a close.
Adieu."
"I entreat you, doctor!"
"All the horrors that disturb my thoughts make your house odious and fatal.
Adieu, sir."
"One word--one single word more, doctor!
You go, leaving me in all the horror of my situation, after increasing it by what you have revealed to me.
But what will be reported of the sudden death of the poor old servant?"
"True," said M. d'Avrigny; "we will return."