“No.”
“They told you, then, that M. d’Epinay consented to our all living together?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you still vexed and grieved?” The old man’s eyes beamed with an expression of gentle affection. “Yes, I understand,” said Valentine; “it is because you love me.” The old man assented. “And you are afraid I shall be unhappy?”
“Yes.”
“You do not like M. Franz?” The eyes repeated several times, “No, no, no.”
“Then you are vexed with the engagement?”
“Yes.”
“Well, listen,” said Valentine, throwing herself on her knees, and putting her arm round her grandfather’s neck, “I am vexed, too, for I do not love M. Franz d’Epinay.” An expression of intense joy illumined the old man’s eyes. “When I wished to retire into a convent, you remember how angry you were with me?” A tear trembled in the eye of the invalid. “Well,” continued Valentine, “the reason of my proposing it was that I might escape this hateful marriage, which drives me to despair.” Noirtier’s breathing came thick and short. “Then the idea of this marriage really grieves you too? Ah, if you could but help me — if we could both together defeat their plan! But you are unable to oppose them, — you, whose mind is so quick, and whose will is so firm are nevertheless, as weak and unequal to the contest as I am myself. Alas, you, who would have been such a powerful protector to me in the days of your health and strength, can now only sympathize in my joys and sorrows, without being able to take any active part in them. However, this is much, and calls for gratitude and heaven has not taken away all my blessings when it leaves me your sympathy and kindness.”
At these words there appeared in Noirtier’s eye an expression of such deep meaning that the young girl thought she could read these words there: “You are mistaken; I can still do much for you.”
“Do you think you can help me, dear grandpapa?” said Valentine.
“Yes.” Noirtier raised his eyes, it was the sign agreed on between him and Valentine when he wanted anything.
“What is it you want, dear grandpapa?” said Valentine, and she endeavored to recall to mind all the things which he would be likely to need; and as the ideas presented themselves to her mind, she repeated them aloud, then, — finding that all her efforts elicited nothing but a constant “No,” — she said, “Come, since this plan does not answer, I will have recourse to another.” She then recited all the letters of the alphabet from A down to N. When she arrived at that letter the paralytic made her understand that she had spoken the initial letter of the thing he wanted. “Ah,” said Valentine, “the thing you desire begins with the letter N; it is with N that we have to do, then. Well, let me see, what can you want that begins with N? Na — Ne — Ni — No” —
“Yes, yes, yes,” said the old man’s eye.
“Ah, it is No, then?”
“Yes.” Valentine fetched a dictionary, which she placed on a desk before Noirtier; she opened it, and, seeing that the odd man’s eye was thoroughly fixed on its pages, she ran her finger quickly up and down the columns. During the six years which had passed since Noirtier first fell into this sad state, Valentine’s powers of invention had been too often put to the test not to render her expert in devising expedients for gaining a knowledge of his wishes, and the constant practice had so perfected her in the art that she guessed the old man’s meaning as quickly as if he himself had been able to seek for what he wanted. At the word “Notary,” Noirtier made a sign to her to stop. “Notary,” said she, “do you want a notary, dear grandpapa?” The old man again signified that it was a notary he desired.
“You would wish a notary to be sent for then?” said Valentine.
“Yes.”
“Shall my father be informed of your wish?”
“Yes.”
“Do you wish the notary to be sent for immediately?”
“Yes.”