The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas & Robin Buss

Author:Alexandre Dumas & Robin Buss [Dumas, Alexandre & Buss, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Literary, Historical, Fiction, Action and Adventure, History, General & Literary Fiction, Classics, Classic fiction (pre c 1945), Napoleonic Wars; 1800-1815, Adventure stories, Historical fiction, France, Criticism, Literature - Classics, Revenge, Sailors, False arrest, Pirates, False imprisonment, Classic fiction, Literature: Texts, France - History - 19th century
ISBN: 9780140449266
Publisher: Penguin Classics
Published: 2003-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Pyramus and Thisbe

OUR readers must permit us to conduct them to the enclosure surrounding Monsieur de Villefort’s house, and, behind the gate half hidden by widespreading chestnut-trees, we shall find some persons of our acquaintance.

Maximilian was the first to arrive. With his eyes close to the fence he was watching for a shadow among the trees at the bottom of the garden, and listening for a footfall on the gravel paths.

At length the desired sound was heard, but instead of one shadow there were two. Valentine had been delayed by a visit from Mme Danglars and Eugénie which had lasted longer than she had anticipated; but that she might not fail to keep her appointment with Maximilian, she had proposed to Mlle Danglars that they should take a walk in the garden, which would enable her to show Maximilian that the delay was not caused by any fault of hers.

With the intuitive perception of a lover, the young man understood the circumstances and was greatly relieved. Besides, without coming within speaking distance, Valentine led her companion where Maximilian could see her go by, and each time she passed near him a look, unperceived by her companion, said to him: “Have patience, my friend, you see it is none of my doing.”

And Maximilian was patient and spent his time appreciating the contrast between the two young girls: the one fair-haired, with languid eyes and a tall figure, slightly bent like a beautiful weeping willow; the other dark-haired, with fiery eyes and a figure as upright as a poplar. Needless to say, the comparison between these two opposed natures was all in Valentine’s favour, at least in the opinion of the young man.

At the end of half an hour, the girls disappeared, and an instant later Valentine returned alone. She ran up to the gate.

“Good evening, Valentine,” said a voice.

“Good evening, Maximilian. I have kept you waiting, but you saw the reason.”

“Yes, I recognized Mademoiselle Danglars. I did not know you were so intimate with her.”

“Who told you we were intimate?”

“No one, but the manner in which you walked and talked rather suggested it. You looked like two school-girls exchanging confidences.”

“We were in fact exchanging confidences,” returned Valentine. “She was telling me how repugnant to her was the idea of a marriage with Monsieur de Morcerf, and I confessed to her how unhappy I was at the thought of marrying Monsieur d‘Epinay. In speaking of the man I cannot love, I thought of the man I love. She told me that she detests the idea of marriage, that her greatest joy would be to lead a free and independent life, and that she almost wished her father would lose his fortune so that she could become an artist like her friend, Mademoiselle Louise d’Armilly. But let us talk of ourselves and not of her, for we have not more than ten minutes together.”

“Why, what has happened, Valentine, that you must leave me so soon?”

“I do not know. Madame de Villefort told

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