“True,” said Madame de Villefort, with an intonation of voice which it is impossible to describe; “is it not unjust — shamefully unjust? Poor Edward is as much M. Noirtier’s grandchild as Valentine, and yet, if she had not been going to marry M. Franz, M. Noirtier would have left her all his money; and supposing Valentine to be disinherited by her grandfather, she will still be three times richer than he.” The count listened and said no more. “Count,” said Villefort, “we will not entertain you any longer with our family misfortunes. It is true that my patrimony will go to endow charitable institutions, and my father will have deprived me of my lawful inheritance without any reason for doing so, but I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that I have acted like a man of sense and feeling. M. d’Epinay, to whom I had promised the interest of this sum, shall receive it, even if I endure the most cruel privations.”
“However,” said Madame de Villefort, returning to the one idea which incessantly occupied her mind, “perhaps it would be better to explain this unlucky affair to M. d’Epinay, in order to give him the opportunity of himself renouncing his claim to the hand of Mademoiselle de Villefort.”
“Ah, that would be a great pity,” said Villefort.
“A great pity,” said Monte Cristo.
“Undoubtedly,” said Villefort, moderating the tones of his voice, “a marriage once concerted and then broken off, throws a sort of discredit on a young lady; then again, the old reports, which I was so anxious to put an end to, will instantly gain ground. No, it will all go well; M. d’Epinay, if he is an honorable man, will consider himself more than ever pledged to Mademoiselle de Villefort, unless he were actuated by a decided feeling of avarice, but that is impossible.”
“I agree with M. de Villefort,” said Monte Cristo, fixing his eyes on Madame de Villefort; “and if I were sufficiently intimate with him to allow of giving my advice, I would persuade him, since I have been told M. d’Epinay is coming back, to settle this affair at once beyond all possibility of revocation. I will answer for the success of a project which will reflect so much honor on M. de Villefort.” The procureur arose, delighted with the proposition, but his wife slightly changed color. “Well, that is all that I wanted, and I will be guided by a counsellor such as you are,” said he, extending his hand to Monte Cristo. “Therefore let every one here look upon what has passed to-day as if it had not happened, and as though we had never thought of such a thing as a change in our original plans.”
“Sir,” said the count, “the world, unjust as it is, will be pleased with your resolution; your friends will be proud of you, and M. d’Epinay, even if he took Mademoiselle de Villefort without any dowry, which he will not do, would be delighted with the idea of entering a family which could make such sacrifices in order to keep a promise and fulfil a duty.” At the conclusion of these words, the count rose to depart. “Are you going to leave us, count?” said Madame de Villefort.
“I am sorry to say I must do so, madame, I only came to remind you of your promise for Saturday.”
“Did you fear that we should forget it?”
“You are very good, madame, but M. de Villefort has so many important and urgent occupations.”
“My husband has given me his word, sir,” said Madame de Villefort; “you have just seen him resolve to keep it when he has everything to lose, and surely there is more reason for his doing so where he has everything to gain.”
“And,” said Villefort, “is it at your house in the Champs-Elysees that you receive your visitors?”
“No,” said Monte Cristo, “which is precisely the reason which renders your kindness more meritorious, — it is in the country.”
“In the country?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it, then? Near Paris, is it not?”
“Very near, only half a league from the Barriers, — it is at Auteuil.”
“At Auteuil?” said Villefort; “true, Madame de Villefort told me you lived at Auteuil, since it was to your house that she was taken. And in what part of Auteuil do you reside?”