“And at the third she expired.”
“At the end of the first attack I discovered symptoms of tetanus; you confirmed my opinion.”
“Yes, before others,” replied the doctor; “but now we are alone” —
“What are you going to say? Oh, spare me!”
“That the symptoms of tetanus and poisoning by vegetable substances are the same.” M. de Villefort started from his seat, then in a moment fell down again, silent and motionless. Morrel knew not if he were dreaming or awake. “Listen, said the doctor; “I know the full importance of the statement I have just made, and the disposition of the man to whom I have made it.”
“Do you speak to me as a magistrate or as a friend?” asked Villefort.
“As a friend, and only as a friend, at this moment. The similarity in the symptoms of tetanus and poisoning by vegetable substances is so great, that were I obliged to affirm by oath what I have now stated, I should hesitate; I therefore repeat to you, I speak not to a magistrate, but to a friend. And to that friend I say. ‘During the three-quarters of an hour that the struggle continued, I watched the convulsions and the death of Madame de Saint-Meran, and am thoroughly convinced that not only did her death proceed from poison, but I could also specify the poison.’”
“Can it be possible?”
“The symptoms are marked, do you see? — sleep broken by nervous spasms, excitation of the brain, torpor of the nerve centres. Madame de Saint-Meran succumbed to a powerful dose of brucine or of strychnine, which by some mistake, perhaps, has been given to her.” Villefort seized the doctor’s hand. “Oh, it is impossible,” said he, “I must be dreaming! It is frightful to hear such things from such a man as you! Tell me, I entreat you, my dear doctor, that you may be deceived.”
“Doubtless I may, but” —
“But?”
“But I do not think so.”
“Have pity on me doctor! So many dreadful things have happened to me lately that I am on the verge of madness.”
“Has any one besides me seen Madame de Saint-Meran?”
“No.”
“Has anything been sent for from a chemist’s that I have not examined?”
“Nothing.”
“Had Madame de Saint-Meran any enemies?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Would her death affect any one’s interest?”
“It could not indeed, my daughter is her only heiress — Valentine alone. Oh, if such a thought could present itself, I would stab myself to punish my heart for having for one instant harbored it.”
“Indeed, my dear friend,” said M. d’Avrigny, “I would not accuse any one; I speak only of an accident, you understand, — of a mistake, — but whether accident or mistake, the fact is there; it is on my conscience and compels me to speak aloud to you. Make inquiry.”
“Of whom? — how? — of what?”
“May not Barrois, the old servant, have made a mistake, and have given Madame de Saint-Meran a dose prepared for his master?”
“For my father?”
“Yes.”
“But how could a dose prepared for M. Noirtier poison Madame de Saint-Meran?”
“Nothing is more simple. You know poisons become remedies in certain diseases, of which paralysis is one. For instance, having tried every other remedy to restore movement and speech to M. Noirtier, I resolved to try one last means, and for three months I have been giving him brucine; so that in the last dose I ordered for him there were six grains. This quantity, which is perfectly safe to administer to the paralyzed frame of M. Noirtier, which has become gradually accustomed to it, would be sufficient to kill another person.”
“My dear doctor, there is no communication between M. Noirtier’s apartment and that of Madame de Saint-Meran, and Barrois never entered my mother-in-law’s room. In short, doctor although I know you to be the most conscientious man in the world, and although I place the utmost reliance in you, I want, notwithstanding my conviction, to believe this axiom, errare humanum est.”
“Is there one of my brethren in whom you have equal confidence with myself?”
“Why do you ask me that? — what do you wish?”