But Villefort uttered words which even he himself did not believe. He dreaded not so much the revelation, for he could reply to or deny its truth; — he cared little for that mene, tekel, upharsin, which appeared suddenly in letters of blood upon the wall; — but what he was really anxious for was to discover whose hand had traced them. While he was endeavoring to calm his fears, — and instead of dwelling upon the political future that had so often been the subject of his ambitious dreams, was imagining a future limited to the enjoyments of home, in fear of awakening the enemy that had so long slept, — the noise of a carriage sounded in the yard, then he heard the steps of an aged person ascending the stairs, followed by tears and lamentations, such as servants always give vent to when they wish to appear interested in their master’s grief. He drew back the bolt of his door, and almost directly an old lady entered, unannounced, carrying her shawl on her arm, and her bonnet in her hand. The white hair was thrown back from her yellow forehead, and her eyes, already sunken by the furrows of age, now almost disappeared beneath the eyelids swollen with grief. “Oh, sir,” she said; “oh, sir, what a misfortune! I shall die of it; oh, yes, I shall certainly die of it!”
And then, falling upon the chair nearest the door, she burst into a paroxysm of sobs. The servants, standing in the doorway, not daring to approach nearer, were looking at Noirtier’s old servant, who had heard the noise from his master’s room, and run there also, remaining behind the others. Villefort rose, and ran towards his mother-in-law, for it was she.
“Why, what can have happened?” he exclaimed, “what has thus disturbed you? Is M. de Saint-Meran with you?”
“M. de Saint-Meran is dead,” answered the old marchioness, without preface and without expression; she appeared to be stupefied. Villefort drew back, and clasping his hands together, exclaimed —“Dead! — so suddenly?”
“A week ago,” continued Madame de Saint-Meran, “we went out together in the carriage after dinner. M. de Saint-Meran had been unwell for some days; still, the idea of seeing our dear Valentine again inspired him with courage, and notwithstanding his illness he would leave. At six leagues from Marseilles, after having eaten some of the lozenges he is accustomed to take, he fell into such a deep sleep, that it appeared to me unnatural; still I hesitated to wake him, although I fancied that his face was flushed, and that the veins of his temples throbbed more violently than usual. However, as it became dark, and I could no longer see, I fell asleep; I was soon aroused by a piercing shriek, as from a person suffering in his dreams, and he suddenly threw his head back violently. I called the valet, I stopped the postilion, I spoke to M. de Saint-Meran, I applied my smelling-salts; but all was over, and I arrived at Aix by the side of a corpse.” Villefort stood with his mouth half open, quite stupefied.
“Of course you sent for a doctor?”
“Immediately; but, as I have told you, it was too late.”
“Yes; but then he could tell of what complaint the poor marquis had died.”
“Oh, yes, sir, he told me; it appears to have been an apoplectic stroke.”
“And what did you do then?”
“M. de Saint-Meran had always expressed a desire, in case his death happened during his absence from Paris, that his body might be brought to the family vault. I had him put into a leaden coffin, and I am preceding him by a few days.”
“Oh, my poor mother,” said Villefort, “to have such duties to perform at your age after such a blow!”
“God has supported me through all; and then, my dear marquis, he would certainly have done everything for me that I performed for him. It is true that since I left him, I seem to have lost my senses. I cannot cry; at my age they say that we have no more tears, — still I think that when one is in trouble one should have the power of weeping. Where is Valentine. sir? It is on her account I am here; I wish to see Valentine.” Villefort thought it would be terrible to reply that Valentine was at a ball; so he only said that she had gone out with her step-mother, and that she should be fetched. “This instant, sir — this instant, I beseech you!” said the old lady. Villefort placed the arm of Madame de Saint-Meran within his own, and conducted her to his apartment. “Rest yourself, mother,” he said.