World Literature Classics Library: The Count of Monte Cristo

Chapter 135 Promise (3)
"Yes, that was in front of everyone," continued the doctor, "but no one else is here now."

"What do you want to say to me, my God?"

"Let me tell you, the symptoms of tonic convulsions and botanical drug poisoning are exactly the same."

Villefort rose abruptly, then just stood there dumbfounded, without uttering a word, motionless, and a moment later he sank down again in the chair in which he had been sitting. "Oh, my God!" said he, "doctor, have you considered the weight of what you just said?"

Morrel did not know whether he was dreaming or awake.

"Listen," said the doctor, "I know the weight of what I have just said, and I know what kind of person I am addressing."

"Are you speaking to the judge, or to your friend?" asked Villefort.

"Speaking to a friend, and now only to a friend, tonic convulsions and botanical drug poisoning, the two symptoms are exactly the same, so if you ask me to sign my name on the diagnosis I just made, tell you, I would hesitate. So I say to you again, I am not speaking to the judge at all, but to a friend. Oh! I want to say to my friend: During the three quarters of an hour before Madame de Saint-Méran died, I I carefully observed how the old lady suffered, how she convulsed, and how she finally died. Oh! I can not only assert that Mrs. Saint-Méran died of poisoning, but I can also say, yes, I can completely tell what poison caused her to die. She killed it."

"Ah, sir! sir!"

"The symptoms of poisoning are all manifested, you may wish to take a look: restless sleep, frequent awakenings due to nervous convulsions, extreme hyperactivity, paralysis of the central nervous system, Mrs. Saint-Meran took a large dose of strychnine or Ma Qiansu killed her. It may be due to negligence, or it may be due to ignorance, and she took the wrong medicine."

Villefort took the doctor's hand. "Oh! that's impossible!" said he. "I'm dreaming, my God! I'm dreaming! It's terrible to hear such things from a man like you. Look at the For heaven's sake, I beg you, dear doctor, just tell me, you may be mistaken!"

"Of course, I could be mistaken, but..."

"But what?"

"But I don't think so."

"Doctor, I hope you can take pity on me. The things I have encountered these days are simply unheard of strange things. I feel that I am going crazy."

"Has anyone but me treated Madame de Saint-Méran?"

"No."

"Did you go to the pharmacy to dispense prescriptions that I haven't passed?"

"No."

"Has Madame de Saint-Méran any enemies?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Has anyone benefited from the death of Madame de Saint-Meran?"

"No, my God! No. My daughter is the only heir to her estate, and only Valentine... Oh! I'll have to stab myself, if I ever get the idea." Punishing my heart can hold such thoughts for a moment."

"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Avrini too. "I hope I'm not accusing anyone. I'm just saying it might have been an accident, do you understand? It might have been a mistake. But it's either an accident or a mistake." , the facts are there, the facts whisper to my conscience, the facts require me to tell you aloud. You must investigate."

"Investigate with whom? How to investigate? What to investigate?"

"For example, is it possible that the old servant Barois has made a mistake in that the potion he brought to Madame de Saint-Méran was actually prepared for his master?"

"A potion made for my father?"

"Yes."

"But how could the potion prepared for M. Noirquier poison Mme. Saint-Méran?"

"Very likely. You know that for certain ailments, paralysis is one example of these poisonous liquids which can be cured. In order to restore M. Noirquier's ability to move and speak, I After trying various methods, for the past three months I have decided to try the last resort. Let me tell you, for three months I have been giving M. Noirquier strychnine. The medicine I prepared for him contained six centigrams of strychnine. A dose of six centigrams would have no adverse effect on Mr. Noirquier's paralyzed organs, since I prescribed him gradually. Slowly increasing, he has adapted, but this six centigram dose is enough to kill another person."

"My dear doctor, the flats of M. Noirquier and Mme. Saint-Méran are not connected, and Baroy never goes to my mother-in-law's. And, with all due respect, I think you are a genius. , you are especially a man of integrity, and in any case, your words are to me like a torch as bright as the sun, pointing out the confusion for me. But, doctor, but, although I completely believe in you, I still want to quote the adage here, that is, errare human umest (Latin: Everyone is at fault.)."

"Listen, Villefort," said the doctor, "is there anyone in my company besides me whom you can trust as well?"

"Why such a question? Please tell me. What do you mean?"

"You might as well invite him to come. I can tell him what I have seen intentionally or unintentionally, and then we will conduct an autopsy together."

"Can you find traces of the poison?"

"No, the poison cannot be detected, I do not assert that, but we can detect the traces of the disturbances left by the nervous system, and we can also see that it is an undeniable chronic suffocation, so we can tell You: my dear Villefort, if this is due to negligence, take care of the servants of the house, if this is due to hatred, be on your guard against your enemies."

"Oh! my God! what kind of proposal do you speak of, Avrini?" replied Villefort despondently; "if anyone but you should know the secret, an investigation would be necessary. But an investigation into my house is impossible! But," continued the prosecutor, calming down and looking anxiously at the doctor, "but if you wish so, and insist on your opinion, I will do so. Indeed, Perhaps it was my duty to bring this matter to light, and I am a man of integrity, and I ought to have done so. But, doctor, you have seen me suffer so much after my family has suffered so much. Shame and humiliation! Oh! My wife and daughter will die with heartache and blood. And I, doctor, you know, in my current position, having been a prosecutor for 25 years, it is inevitable that there will be many grudges. My There are too many enemies. Once this matter is publicized, my enemies will cheer and dance happily, but I will be ashamed. Doctor, forgive me for these worldly thoughts. If you are a priest, I dare not say these things to you, but you are not a priest, and you know what is human. Doctor, doctor, you have not told me anything, have you?"

"My dear M. de Villefort," replied the doctor, relented, "humanitarianism is my first duty. If science can save Madame de Saint-Méran, I will do my best. I can't return, I should think about the living. Let this terrible secret be buried deep in our hearts. If someone pursues it in the future, let them blame my silence on my lack of knowledge. However Sir, you still have to investigate, you should investigate seriously, because it is very likely that the matter will not stop there... If you can find the criminal, then after you track him down, I will definitely say to you: You are the judge and it's up to you."

"Ah, thank you, thank you, doctor!" said Villefort with indescribable joy, "you are the best friend of my life." Then he seemed afraid that Dr. Avrini would change his mind about the concession he had just made. , so he hurriedly stood up and pulled him towards the small building.

When they were gone, Morrel poked his head out of the bushes, as if in need of breath, and the moonlight fell on his pale face, which one would have thought some ghost was there. "It is evident that God has protected me very marvelously," said he; "but, Valentine, Valentine! Poor girl, will she bear so much sorrow?" he said, Looking back and forth between the window with the red curtains and the other three windows with white curtains.

At the window with the red curtains, the light was almost completely lost. Madame de Villefort had probably put it out not long ago. The only light in the room was a small candle that had been burning all night, and its faint light was faintly discernible on the window glass.On the contrary, he saw one of the three white-curtained windows at the corner of the building open, and from a candle on the mantelpiece cast a few faint rays of light through the window.A figure came to the balcony, and I saw that figure stood leaning against the balcony railing for a while.Morrel shuddered involuntarily, and he thought he heard sobs and sobs.His heart, which had always been very brave and strong, felt lost and burning with rage.And this is not surprising, since it was love and fear, the two greatest human emotions, that terrified him.The heart has grown so feeble that it is caught in superstitious illusions of every kind.Although he hid himself so that Valentine could not see him, he felt that the figure at the window was calling to him.The troubled mind told him so, and the fiery heart said the same to him, and such a double delusion finally became an irresistible fact.With the inscrutable impulse of youth, he threw himself through the bushes where he was hiding, without heeding the danger of being seen, of terrifying Valentine, and of losing the girl's voice. The danger of arousing others’ vigilance by shouting, he took a big step, hurried across the flower bed that looked like a vast white lake under the moonlight, and came to the edge of a long row of potted orange trees in front of the building, then rushed to the steps, stepped up hastily, Reach out and push the door.The door obediently opened.

Valentine did not see him.The girl was looking up at the sky, and she saw a silver-white floating cloud slowly drifting in the blue night sky, and the shape really looked like a ghost ascending to the sky.The girl couldn't help touching the scene and thinking about it, thinking that this was the soul of her grandmother.

By this time Morrel had crossed the hall and reached the banister of the stairs.The stairs were carpeted, and he went up the stairs without the sound of his footsteps.Moreover, Morrel was so excited at this moment that he would not be alarmed if M. de Villefort himself were in front of him.If M. de Villefort had really come before him, Morrel would have made up his mind to go to Villefort, tell the truth, ask M. de Villefort to forgive him, and ask M. de Villefort to promise him and Mademoiselle de Villefort to love each other.Morrel was insane by this time, luckily he ran into no one.

He was already familiar with the layout of this building through Valentine's description, which was very useful to him.He reached the top of the stairs without any trouble.When he was hesitating in which direction to go, there was a whimpering sound that he was very familiar with, which pointed him to a way.So he turned around, a door was ajar, a ray of light appeared from the crack of the door and there was a sobbing sound, he pushed open the door and walked in.

The room has an alcove for a bed, in which the deceased is lying horizontally. The body is covered by a white sheet, the head is completely covered, and only the outline of the body can be vaguely seen from the white sheet.Morrel happened to know the secret of this, and the sight of the corpse felt all the more terrible at this moment.Valentine was kneeling by the bed, with her head buried in the cushions of a large armchair, her trembling body heaving with sobs, her hands clasped stiffly on her head, so that Morrel could not see. to the girl's head.The window was still open, but the girl had come back from the window, and began to pray aloud with a voice that would tear a heart of stone to pieces.Her words were very hasty and intermittent, and she couldn't hear what she was talking about. She was already dejected and her throat was choked.The moonlight came in through the slits of the shutters, and the candlelight looked pale and feeble. The room was already mournful, but the faint candlelight cast a light blue layer on the room, making it even more desolate.

Morrel could not bear such sorrow.He was not the kind of man who was full of sorrow and emotion, but he saw Valentine sighing and weeping, seeing her twisting her arms in pain, and Morrel could no longer bear to just look on.He couldn't help but sighed, and called out softly.The head that was attached to the velvet cushion of the armchair lifted up, and turned to him again, only to see tears streaming down his face, as white as a white stone, just like the Italian painter Correggio (1489-1583).There are three characters named Magdalene in the Bible, one of them kissed Jesus' feet with tears streaming down his face, and the other two witnessed Jesus' resurrection.Valentine had already seen him, but she showed no surprise at all, a heart that was distraught could not be relieved all at once.Morrel held out his hand to the girl, and Valentine pointed to the corpse covered in a white sheet, implying that this was the whole reason why she could not see Morrel.Then the girl began to sob and cry again.In this room, neither of them dared to speak, as if Death was in a corner of the room, holding his finger on his lips and telling them to keep quiet.They also seemed to be hesitant, not daring to break the silence in the room, and in the end it was Valentine who spoke first.

"My friend," she said, "how did you come in? Alas! If Death had not opened the door of the building for you, I should have said to you: Welcome to my house."

"Valentine," said Morrel, clasping his hands together in a trembling voice, "I came at eight-thirty, but I was so worried that I never saw you, that I climbed over the wall into the garden, just in time to hear someone Talking, talking about this unfortunate incident...

"Who is talking?" asked Valentine.

Morrel shuddered, as the conversation between the doctor and M. de Villefort resounded in his ears, and it seemed to him that he saw through the sheets the curled arms, the stiff neck, and the purple lips. "It was your servant who was talking," he said, "so I know everything."

"But you will ruin us both by running into this room, my friend," said Valentine, with neither fear nor anger in her voice.

"I beg your pardon," said Morrel, in the same tone as before, "then I will go."

"No," said Valentine, "they will see you, and stay here."

"But, who wants to come?"

The girl shook her head. "No one came," she said, "don't worry, this is our patron saint." She pointed to the corpse covered by the sheet, whose outline was still vaguely discernible.

"Tell me, how is M. d'Epinet?" continued Morrel.

(End of this chapter)