基督山伯爵（The Count of Monte Cristo）第九十四章　吐露真情

AT THE SAME moment M. de Villefort's voice was heard calling from his study, "What is the matter?" Morrel looked at Noirtier who had recovered his self-command, and with a glance indicated the closet where once before under somewhat similar circumstances, he had taken refuge. He had only time to get his hat and throw himself breathless into the closet when the procureur's footstep was heard in the passage. Villefort sprang into the room, ran to Valentine, and took her in his arms. "A physician, a physician,--M. d'Avrigny!" cried Villefort; "or rather I will go for him myself." He flew from the apartment, and Morrel at the same moment darted out at the other door. He had been struck to the heart by a frightful recollection--the conversation he had heard between the doctor and Villefort the night of Madame de Saint-Méran's death, recurred to him; these symptoms, to a less alarming extent, were the same which had preceded the death of Barrois. At the same time Monte Cristo's voice seemed to resound in his ear with the words he had heard only two hours before, "Whatever you want, Morrel, come to me; I have great power." More rapidly than thought, he darted down the Rue Matignon, and thence to the Avenue des Champs Elysées.

Meanwhile M. de Villefort arrived in a hired cabriolet at M. d'Avrigny's door. He rang so violently that the porter was alarmed. Villefort ran up-stairs without saying a word. The porter knew him, and let him pass, only calling to him, "In his study, Monsieur Procureur--in his study!" Villefort pushed, or rather forced, the door open. "Ah," said the doctor, "is it you?"

"Yes," said Villefort, closing the door after him, "it is I, who am come in my turn to ask you if we are quite alone. Doctor, my house is accursed!"

"What?" said the latter with apparent coolness, but with deep emotion, "have you another invalid?"

"Yes, doctor," cried Villefort, clutching his hair, "yes!"

D'Avrigny's look implied, "I told you it would be so." Then he slowly uttered these words, "Who is now dying in your house? What new victim is going to accuse you of weakness before God?" A mournful sob burst from Villefort's heart; he approached the doctor, and seizing his arm,--"Valentine," said he, "it is Valentine's turn!"

"Your daughter?" cried d'Avrigny with grief and surprise.

"You see you were deceived," murmured the magistrate; "come and see her, and on her bed of agony entreat her pardon for having suspected her."

"Each time you have applied to me," said the doctor, "it has been too late; still I will go. But let us make haste, sir; with the enemies you have to do with there is no time to be lost."

"Oh, this time, doctor, you shall not have to reproach me with weakness. This time I will know the assassin, and will pursue him."

"Let us try first to save the victim before we think of revenging her," said d'Avrigny. "Come." The same cabriolet which had brought Villefort took them back at full speed, and at this moment Morrel rapped at Monte Cristo's door. The count was in his study and was reading with an angry look something which Bertuccio had brought in haste. Hearing the name of Morrel, who had left him only two hours before, the count raised his head, arose, and sprang to meet him. "What is the matter, Maximilian?" asked he; "you are pale, and the perspiration rolls from your forehead." Morrel fell into a chair. "Yes," said he, "I came quickly; I wanted to speak to you."

"Are all your family well?" asked the count, with an affectionate benevolence, whose sincerity no one could for a moment doubt.

"Thank you, count--thank you," said the young man, evidently embarrassed how to begin the conversation; "yes, every one in my family is well."

"So much the better; yet you have something to tell me?" replied the count with increased anxiety.

"Yes," said Morrel, "it is true; I have but now left a house where death has just entered, to run to you."

"Are you then come from M. de Morcerf's?" asked Monte Cristo.

"No," said Morrel; "is some one dead in his house?"

"The general has just blown his brains out," replied Monte Cristo with great coolness.

"Oh, what a dreadful event!" cried Maximilian.

"Not for the countess, or for Albert," said Monte Cristo; "a dead father or husband is better than a dishonored one,--blood washes out shame."

"Poor countess," said Maximilian, "I pity her very much; she is so noble a woman!"

"Pity Albert also, Maximilian; for believe me he is the worthy son of the countess. But let us return to yourself. You have hastened to me--can I have the happiness of being useful to you?"

"Yes, I need your help: that is I thought like a madman that you could lend me your assistance in a case where God alone can succor me."

"Tell me what it is," replied Monte Cristo.

"Oh," said Morrel, "I know not, indeed, if I may reveal this secret to mortal ears, but fatality impels me, necessity constrains me, count"--Morrel hesitated. "Do you think I love you?" said Monte Cristo, taking the young man's hand affectionately in his.

"Oh, you encourage me, and something tells me there," placing his hand on his heart, "that I ought to have no secret from you."

"You are right, Morrel; God is speaking to your heart, and your heart speaks to you. Tell me what it says."

"Count, will you allow me to send Baptistin to inquire after some one you know?"

"I am at your service, and still more my servants."

"Oh, I cannot live if she is not better."

"Shall I ring for Baptistin?"

"No, I will go and speak to him myself." Morrel went out, called Baptistin, and whispered a few words to him. The valet ran directly. "Well, have you sent?" asked Monte Cristo, seeing Morrel return.

"Yes, and now I shall be more calm."

"You know I am waiting," said Monte Cristo, smiling.

"Yes, and I will tell you. One evening I was in a garden; a clump of trees concealed me; no one suspected I was there. Two persons passed near me--allow me to conceal their names for the present; they were speaking in an undertone, and yet I was so interested in what they said that I did not lose a single word."

"This is a gloomy introduction, if I may judge from your pallor and shuddering, Morrel."

"Oh, yes, very gloomy, my friend. Some one had just died in the house to which that garden belonged. One of the persons whose conversation I overheard was the master of the house; the other, the physician. The former was confiding to the latter his grief and fear, for it was the second time within a month that death had suddenly and unexpectedly entered that house which was apparently destined to destruction by some exterminating angel, as an object of God's anger."

"Ah, indeed?" said Monte Cristo, looking earnestly at the young man, and by an imperceptible movement turning his chair, so that he remained in the shade while the light fell full on Maximilian's face. "Yes," continued Morrel, "death had entered that house twice within one month."

"And what did the doctor answer?" asked Monte Cristo.

"He replied--he replied, that the death was not a natural one, and must be attributed"--

"To what?"

"To poison."

"Indeed?" said Monte Cristo with a slight cough which in moments of extreme emotion helped him to disguise a blush, or his pallor, or the intense interest with which he listened; "indeed, Maximilian, did you hear that?"

"Yes, my dear count, I heard it; and the doctor added that if another death occurred in a similar way he must appeal to justice." Monte Cristo listened, or appeared to do so, with the greatest calmness. "Well," said Maximilian, "death came a third time, and neither the master of the house nor the doctor said a word. Death is now, perhaps, striking a fourth blow. Count, what am I bound to do, being in possession of this secret?"

"My dear friend," said Monte Cristo, "you appear to be relating an adventure which we all know by heart. I know the house where you heard it, or one very similar to it; a house with a garden, a master, a physician, and where there have been three unexpected and sudden deaths. Well, I have not intercepted your confidence, and yet I know all that as well as you, and I have no conscientious scruples. No, it does not concern me. You say an exterminating angel appears to have devoted that house to God's anger--well, who says your supposition is not reality? Do not notice things which those whose interest it is to see them pass over. If it is God's justice, instead of his anger, which is walking through that house, Maximilian, turn away your face and let his justice accomplish its purpose." Morrel shuddered. There was something mournful, solemn, and terrible in the count's manner. "Besides," continued he, in so changed a tone that no one would have supposed it was the same person speaking--"besides, who says that it will begin again?"

"It has returned, count," exclaimed Morrel; "that is why I hastened to you."

"Well, what do you wish me to do? Do you wish me, for instance, to give information to the procureur?" Monte Cristo uttered the last words with so much meaning that Morrel, starting up, cried out, "You know of whom I speak, count, do you not?"

"Perfectly well, my good friend; and I will prove it to you by putting the dots to the 'i,' or rather by naming the persons. You were walking one evening in M. de Villefort's garden; from what you relate, I suppose it to have been the evening of Madame de Saint-Méran's death. You heard M. de Villefort talking to M. d'Avrigny about the death of M. de Saint-Méran, and that no less surprising, of the countess. M. d'Avrigny said he believed they both proceeded from poison; and you, honest man, have ever since been asking your heart and sounding your conscience to know if you ought to expose or conceal this secret. Why do you torment them? 'Conscience, what hast thou to do with me?' as Sterne said. My dear fellow, let them sleep on, if they are asleep; let them grow pale in their drowsiness, if they are disposed to do so, and pray do you remain in peace, who have no remorse to disturb you." Deep grief was depicted on Morrel's features; he seized Monte Cristo's hand. "But it is beginning again, I say!"

"Well," said the Count, astonished at his perseverance, which he could not understand, and looking still more earnestly at Maximilian, "let it begin again,--it is like the house of the Atreidae;* God has condemned them, and they must submit to their punishment. They will all disappear, like the fabrics children build with cards, and which fall, one by one, under the breath of their builder, even if there are two hundred of them. Three months since it was M. de Saint-Méran; Madame de Saint-Méran two months since; the other day it was Barrois; to-day, the old Noirtier, or young Valentine."

* In the old Greek legend the Atreidae, or children of Atreus, were doomed to punishment because of the abominable crime of their father. The Agamemnon of Aeschylus is based on this legend.

"You knew it?" cried Morrel, in such a paroxysm of terror that Monte Cristo started,--he whom the falling heavens would have found unmoved; "you knew it, and said nothing?"

"And what is it to me?" replied Monte Cristo, shrugging his shoulders; "do I know those people? and must I lose the one to save the other? Faith, no, for between the culprit and the victim I have no choice."

"But I," cried Morrel, groaning with sorrow, "I love her!"

"You love?--whom?" cried Monte Cristo, starting to his feet, and seizing the two hands which Morrel was raising towards heaven.

"I love most fondly--I love madly--I love as a man who would give his life-blood to spare her a tear--I love Valentine de Villefort, who is being murdered at this moment! Do you understand me? I love her; and I ask God and you how I can save her?" Monte Cristo uttered a cry which those only can conceive who have heard the roar of a wounded lion. "Unhappy man," cried he, wringing his hands in his turn; "you love Valentine,--that daughter of an accursed race!" Never had Morrel witnessed such an expression--never had so terrible an eye flashed before his face--never had the genius of terror he had so often seen, either on the battle-field or in the murderous nights of Algeria, shaken around him more dreadful fire. He drew back terrified.

As for Monte Cristo, after this ebullition he closed his eyes as if dazzled by internal light. In a moment he restrained himself so powerfully that the tempestuous heaving of his breast subsided, as turbulent and foaming waves yield to the sun's genial influence when the cloud has passed. This silence, self-control, and struggle lasted about twenty seconds, then the count raised his pallid face. "See," said he, "my dear friend, how God punishes the most thoughtless and unfeeling men for their indifference, by presenting dreadful scenes to their view. I, who was looking on, an eager and curious spectator,--I, who was watching the working of this mournful tragedy,--I, who like a wicked angel was laughing at the evil men committed protected by secrecy (a secret is easily kept by the rich and powerful), I am in my turn bitten by the serpent whose tortuous course I was watching, and bitten to the heart!"

Morrel groaned. "Come, come," continued the count, "complaints are unavailing, be a man, be strong, be full of hope, for I am here and will watch over you." Morrel shook his head sorrowfully. "I tell you to hope. Do you understand me?" cried Monte Cristo. "Remember that I never uttered a falsehood and am never deceived. It is twelve o'clock, Maximilian; thank heaven that you came at noon rather than in the evening, or to-morrow morning. Listen, Morrel--it is noon; if Valentine is not now dead, she will not die."

"How so?" cried Morrel, "when I left her dying?" Monte Cristo pressed his hands to his forehead. What was passing in that brain, so loaded with dreadful secrets? What does the angel of light or the angel of darkness say to that mind, at once implacable and generous? God only knows.

Monte Cristo raised his head once more, and this time he was calm as a child awaking from its sleep. "Maximilian," said he, "return home. I command you not to stir--attempt nothing, not to let your countenance betray a thought, and I will send you tidings. Go."

"Oh, count, you overwhelm me with that coolness. Have you, then, power against death? Are you superhuman? Are you an angel?" And the young man, who had never shrunk from danger, shrank before Monte Cristo with indescribable terror. But Monte Cristo looked at him with so melancholy and sweet a smile, that Maximilian felt the tears filling his eyes. "I can do much for you, my friend," replied the count. "Go; I must be alone." Morrel, subdued by the extraordinary ascendancy Monte Cristo exercised over everything around him, did not endeavor to resist it. He pressed the count's hand and left. He stopped one moment at the door for Baptistin, whom he saw in the Rue Matignon, and who was running.

Meanwhile, Villefort and d'Avrigny had made all possible haste, Valentine had not revived from her fainting fit on their arrival, and the doctor examined the invalid with all the care the circumstances demanded, and with an interest which the knowledge of the secret intensified twofold. Villefort, closely watching his countenance and his lips, awaited the result of the examination. Noirtier, paler than even the young girl, more eager than Villefort for the decision, was watching also intently and affectionately. At last d'Avrigny slowly uttered these words:--"she is still alive!"

"Still?" cried Villefort; "oh, doctor, what a dreadful word is that."

"Yes," said the physician, "I repeat it; she is still alive, and I am astonished at it."

"But is she safe?" asked the father.

"Yes, since she lives." At that moment d'Avrigny's glance met Noirtier's eye. It glistened with such extraordinary joy, so rich and full of thought, that the physician was struck. He placed the young girl again on the chair,--her lips were scarcely discernible, they were so pale and white, as well as her whole face,--and remained motionless, looking at Noirtier, who appeared to anticipate and commend all he did. "Sir," said d'Avrigny to Villefort, "call Mademoiselle Valentine's maid, if you please." Villefort went himself to find her; and d'Avrigny approached Noirtier. "Have you something to tell me?" asked he. The old man winked his eyes expressively, which we may remember was his only way of expressing his approval.

"Privately?"

"Yes."

"Well, I will remain with you." At this moment Villefort returned, followed by the lady's maid; and after her came Madame de Villefort.

"What is the matter, then, with this dear child? she has just left me, and she complained of being indisposed, but I did not think seriously of it." The young woman with tears in her eyes and every mark of affection of a true mother, approached Valentine and took her hand. D'Avrigny continued to look at Noirtier; he saw the eyes of the old man dilate and become round, his cheeks turn pale and tremble; the perspiration stood in drops upon his forehead. "Ah," said he, involuntarily following Noirtier's eyes, which were fixed on Madame de Villefort, who repeated,--"This poor child would be better in bed. Come, Fanny, we will put her to bed." M. d'Avrigny, who saw that would be a means of his remaining alone with Noirtier, expressed his opinion that it was the best thing that could be done; but he forbade that anything should be given to her except what he ordered.

They carried Valentine away; she had revived, but could scarcely move or speak, so shaken was her frame by the attack. She had, however, just power to give one parting look to her grandfather, who in losing her seemed to be resigning his very soul. D'Avrigny followed the invalid, wrote a prescription, ordered Villefort to take a cabriolet, go in person to a chemist's to get the prescribed medicine, bring it himself, and wait for him in his daughter's room. Then, having renewed his injunction not to give Valentine anything, he went down again to Noirtier, shut the doors carefully, and after convincing himself that no one was listening,--"Do you," said he, "know anything of this young lady's illness?"

"Yes," said the old man.

"We have no time to lose; I will question, and do you answer me." Noirtier made a sign that he was ready to answer. "Did you anticipate the accident which has happened to your granddaughter?"

"Yes." D'Avrigny reflected a moment; then approaching Noirtier,--"Pardon what I am going to say," added he, "but no indication should be neglected in this terrible situation. Did you see poor Barrois die?" Noirtier raised his eyes to heaven. "Do you know of what he died!" asked d'Avrigny, placing his hand on Noirtier's shoulder.

"Yes," replied the old man.

"Do you think he died a natural death?" A sort of smile was discernible on the motionless lips of Noirtier.

"Then you have thought that Barrois was poisoned?"

"Yes."

"Do you think the poison he fell a victim to was intended for him?"

"No."

"Do you think the same hand which unintentionally struck Barrois has now attacked Valentine?"

"Yes."

"Then will she die too?" asked d'Avrigny, fixing his penetrating gaze on Noirtier. He watched the effect of this question on the old man. "No," replied he with an air of triumph which would have puzzled the most clever diviner. "Then you hope?" said d'Avrigny, with surprise.

"Yes."

"What do you hope?" The old man made him understand with his eyes that he could not answer. "Ah, yes, it is true," murmured d'Avrigny. Then, turning to Noirtier,--"Do you hope the assassin will be tried?"

"No."

"Then you hope the poison will take no effect on Valentine?"

"Yes."

"It is no news to you," added d'Avrigny, "to tell you that an attempt has been made to poison her?" The old man made a sign that he entertained no doubt upon the subject. "Then how do you hope Valentine will escape?" Noirtier kept his eyes steadfastly fixed on the same spot. D'Avrigny followed the direction and saw that they were fixed on a bottle containing the mixture which he took every morning. "Ah, indeed?" said d'Avrigny, struck with a sudden thought, "has it occurred to you"--Noirtier did not let him finish. "Yes," said he. "To prepare her system to resist poison?"

"Yes."

"By accustoming her by degrees"--

"Yes, yes, yes," said Noirtier, delighted to be understood.

"Of course. I had told you that there was brucine in the mixture I give you."

"Yes."

"And by accustoming her to that poison, you have endeavored to neutralize the effect of a similar poison?" Noirtier's joy continued. "And you have succeeded," exclaimed d'Avrigny. "Without that precaution Valentine would have died before assistance could have been procured. The dose has been excessive, but she has only been shaken by it; and this time, at any rate, Valentine will not die." A superhuman joy expanded the old man's eyes, which were raised towards heaven with an expression of infinite gratitude. At this moment Villefort returned. "Here, doctor," said he, "is what you sent me for."

"Was this prepared in your presence?"

"Yes," replied the procureur.

"Have you not let it go out of your hands?"

"No." D'Avrigny took the bottle, poured some drops of the mixture it contained in the hollow of his hand, and swallowed them. "Well," said he, "let us go to Valentine; I will give instructions to every one, and you, M. de Villefort, will yourself see that no one deviates from them."

At the moment when d'Avrigny was returning to Valentine's room, accompanied by Villefort, an Italian priest, of serious demeanor and calm and firm tone, hired for his use the house adjoining the hotel of M. de Villefort. No one knew how the three former tenants of that house left it. About two hours afterwards its foundation was reported to be unsafe; but the report did not prevent the new occupant establishing himself there with his modest furniture the same day at five o'clock. The lease was drawn up for three, six, or nine years by the new tenant, who, according to the rule of the proprietor, paid six months in advance. This new tenant, who, as we have said, was an Italian, was called Il Signor Giacomo Busoni. Workmen were immediately called in, and that same night the passengers at the end of the faubourg saw with surprise that carpenters and masons were occupied in repairing the lower part of the tottering house.

这时，维尔福先生的声音从他的书斋里传出来说：“出了什么事情呀？”莫雷尔连忙向诺瓦蒂埃的目光征求意见；诺瓦蒂埃先生已恢复他的自制力，他用目光向他指示以前在类似的情况下他曾躲避过的那间耳房。他刚拿起帽子气息喘喘地奔跑进那间耳房，那位检察官的脚步声已在走廊里响起了，维尔福跑进房来，向瓦朗蒂娜奔去，把她抱在怀里。“叫医生！叫医生！请阿夫里尼先生！”维尔福喊道，“不要了，我亲自去请。”

说着，他冲出房门，莫雷尔则同时从另外一扇门冲了进来。他的心里突然想起一件可怕的事情，——他想起了圣·梅朗夫人去世那一夜医生与维尔福的那一段谈话：这些病症与巴罗斯临死前是一样的，虽然在程度上没有那么可怕。同时，基督山的声音似乎又在他的耳边响起来，他在两小时前曾说过“不论你需要什么，莫雷尔，到我这儿来好了，我有很大的力量。”想到这儿，已经冲出门去，从那儿折向香榭丽舍大道。

这时，维尔福先生已乘着一辆出租的轻便马车赶到了阿夫里尼先生的门前，他把门铃拉得特别响，以致使门房吓了一跳。维尔福一句话都不说，直向楼上奔去。门房认识他，也没拦他，只是对他喊道：“在书斋里，检察官先生，他在书斋里！”维尔福推开——或是，说得更贴切些，撞开——书斋的门冲了进去。

“啊！”医生说，“是您？”

“是的，”维尔福说，顺手关上房门，“是我，现在轮到我来问您这儿是不是只有我们两个人在。医生，我的家受到上天的惩罚啦！”

“什么！”后者说，他表面上虽然很冷淡，但内心却很激动，“您家里又有一个人病倒了吗？”

“是的，医生。”维尔福用一只痉挛的手抓住自己的头发喊道，“是的！”

阿夫里尼的眼光象是在说，“我早就告诉你这些是要来的。”然后他慢慢地说出这些话，“您家里现在要死的是谁？是哪一个新的牺牲者又要到上帝面前去控告您软弱无能了？”

维尔福的心里爆发出一阵悲哀的呜咽，他走近医生，抓住他的胳膊。“瓦朗蒂娜！”他说，“这一次轮到瓦朗蒂娜了！”

“您的女儿！”阿夫里尼无限悲哀而惊奇地喊道。

“您瞧，您完全看到了啦，”那法官喃喃地说，“去看看她吧，在她临死的床边，去请求她宽恕你对她的怀疑吧。”

“您每一次来找我，”医生说，“总是太迟了，可是，我还是去的。我们赶快吧，阁下，对付仇敌是不能浪费时间的。”

“噢，这一次，医生，你不会再责备我软弱无能了。这一次，如果让我知道谁是凶犯，我会惩罚的。”

“我们先去设法挽救那个牺牲者吧，将来再去想为她复仇的事情，”阿夫里尼说，“来吧。”

维尔福来的那辆轻便马车载着他们疾驰而去，这时，莫雷尔正在敲基督山的门。

伯爵在书房里，正在用匆忙的目光快速地看见贝尔图乔匆匆地拿进来的一封信。听到两小时前离开他的莫雷尔又来见他，伯爵便立即抬起头来。莫雷尔，象伯爵一样，在那两小时之内显然曾受过不少考验，因为他是带着笑容离开他，现在却带着一张痛苦的面孔回来。伯爵跑过去迎接他。“怎么啦，马西米兰？”他问道，“你满头大汗，脸色苍白得很。”

莫雷尔一下子跌坐在一张椅子上。“是的，”他说，“我来得很匆忙，我要跟你说一说。”

“你家里的人都好吗？？伯爵亲切慈爱地问，他的诚恳任何人都能看出来。

“谢谢你，伯爵，谢谢你，”那青年说，他觉得难以启口，“是的，我家里的每一个都很好。”

“那就好了，你有什么事情要告诉我吧？”伯爵焦急地问道。

“是的，”莫雷尔说，“不错，我刚才离开一座死神将进去的房子，奔到你这儿来。”

“那末你是从马尔塞夫先生家里来的吗？”基督山问道。

“不，”莫雷尔说，“他家里有人死了吗？”

“将军刚才自杀了。”基督山非常冷淡地回答。

“噢，多可怕的命运啊！”马西米兰喊道。

“对伯爵夫人或阿尔贝却是认为，”基督山说，“一个死掉的父亲或丈夫比一个使他们受辱的好，——血洗清了他们身上耻辱。”

“可怜的伯爵夫人！”马西米兰说，“我非常可怜她，——这样高贵的女人。”

“也可怜一下阿尔贝吧，马西米兰，因为，相信我，他不愧是伯爵夫人的儿子。让我们回到你的身上来吧，你匆匆地赶到我这儿来，有什么事需要我帮助吗？

“是的，我需要你的帮助，那是说，我象一个疯子一样，认为你能帮助我做一件只有上帝才能帮助我的事情。”

“告诉我那是什么事情。”基督山答道。

“噢！”莫雷尔说，“我实在不知道我是否可以把这个秘密泄漏给别人听。但厄运在逼迫着我，情势逼迫着我非说不可——”他吞吞吐吐地说。

“你以为我爱你吗？”基督山亲热地握住那青年的手说。

“噢，你鼓励了我！而这里有一样东西告诉我，”他用手按在心上说，“我对你应该没有秘密。”

“你说得对，莫雷尔，上帝在对你的心说话，而你的心在转告你。告诉我它说了些什么话。”

“伯爵，你可以让我派巴浦斯汀去打听一个人的消息吗？那个人也是你认识的。”

“我随意听你的吩咐，我的仆人也一样。”

“噢，假如我听不到她好转的消息，我就不活了。”

“要我叫巴浦斯汀来吗？”

“不，我亲自去跟他说。”

莫雷尔去叫巴浦斯汀，对他低声说了几句话。巴浦斯汀匆匆地走了。

“嗯，你派他去了吗？”基督山看见莫雷尔回来，关切地问。

“是的，现在我可以比较安心一些了。”

“你知道我在等着呢。”基督山微笑说。

“是的，我来告诉你。有一天晚上，我在一个花园里。一丛树木藏住了我，谁都没有注意我在那儿。有两个人走到我附近，——允许我暂时不说他们的名字，他们的谈话声，可是，他们所说的事情我非常关切，所以他们的话我一个字也没有漏过。”

“莫雷尔，假如我可以从你苍白的脸色和颤抖不止的身体来判断的话，我敢说这是一个悲剧的开始。”

“噢，是的，非常悲惨，我的朋友！在这座花园的房子里，刚才死了一个人。我窃听他们谈话的那两个人，一个是那座房子的主人，一个是医生。前者正在向后者诉说他的忧心和恐惧，因为在一个月内，这已是死神第二次进入那座房子了。”

“啊，啊！”基督山急切地望着那个青年说，并用一个难以觉察的动作转动了一下他的椅子，这样，他自己可以坐在阴暗的光线里，而马西米兰则全部沐浴在阳光里。

“是的，”莫雷尔继续说，“死神在一个月内连续两次进入了那座房子。”

“那医生怎么回答呢？”基督山问。

“他回答说——他回答说，那种死决不是一种自然的死亡，而全都归罪于——”

“归罪于什么？”

“归罪于毒药。”

“真的吗？”基督山说，轻轻咳嗽了一声，这种咳嗽可以在情绪极其激动的时候帮助他掩饰脸上的红涨或苍白，或是掩饰他听对方说话时的关注神情。

“是的，我亲爱的伯爵，我听到的。那医生还说，假如再有人这样死掉，他就一定要投诉法律了。”基督山听话时态度非常镇定，至少从表面上看起来如此。“嗯！”马西米兰说，“死神第三次又来了那座房子的主人或医生都没哼一声。死神现在又在快作第四次降临了。伯爵，我现在既然已经知道了这个秘密，我究竟应该怎样办呢？”

“我亲爱的朋友，”基督山说，“你看来是在讲述一个我们大家都心照不宣的故事。我知道你窃听谈话的那座房子，或至少我知道有一座非常类似的房子，——在那座房子里，有一个花园、一个主人、一个医生和三次意想不到的突然死亡。嗯，我不曾窃听到任何秘密谈话，可是我心里象你一样清楚，我并不感到良心上有什么不安。不，这不关我的事。你说，一位绝灭天使似乎已把那座房子当作毁灭的对象。嗯！谁说你的假定不是事实？不要再去注意那些理所当然发生的事情。假如来到那座房子的不是上帝的绝灭天使而是他的正义之神，马西米兰，你装作没有听见这一切，让正义之神去行动吧。”

莫雷尔打了一个寒颤。伯爵的语气中带着某种哀伤，庄严和可怕的气氛。“而且，”他继续说，他的口气突然改变，使人难以相信这是同一个人在说说，——“而且，谁说它会再来呢？”

“它已经又来啦，伯爵！”莫雷尔喊道，“这就是为什么我要赶来见你的原因。”

“嗯！你希望我怎么做呢？难道你希望我，譬如，把这个消息去通知检察官吗？”

基督山说最后这几个字意味深长，莫雷尔站起来喊道：“你知道我所说的是谁，不是吗，伯爵？”

“知道得十分清楚，我的好朋友，我可以举出那些人的姓名来向你保证我知道这些。有一天晚上你走进维尔福先生的花园，而根据你的叙述，我猜定那是在圣·梅朗夫人去世的那天晚上。你听到维尔福先生和阿夫里尼先生谈论圣·梅朗先生和侯爵夫人的死。阿夫里尼先生说，他相信他们两人都是中毒才死的，而你这个注重名誉的人，就从此日夜门心自问，究竟应不应该揭露这个秘密、或隐讳这个秘密。我们现在已不是在中世纪了，亲爱的朋友，现在已不再有宗教秘密法庭或良心裁判所。你跟那些人有什么关系呢？正如斯特恩［斯特恩（一七一三—一七六八），英国小说家。——译注］所说的：‘良心呵，你跟我有什么关系？’我亲爱的，假如良心睡着，就让它继续睡下去，假如良心醒着，就让它醒着难受一会儿吧。为了上帝的爱，安安静静地生活吧，他并不想来打扰你的生活！”

莫雷尔的脸上露出一种可怕的痛苦的神情，他抓住基督山的手。“可是现在它又来了。”

“吓！”伯爵说，他非常惊讶于莫雷尔这种坚持的态度，他不懂这是为了什么，只是更急切地望着他，“让它再来吧。那是一个阿特拉斯族［希腊神话中受到天罚，自相残杀的一族人。——译注］的家庭，上帝已判了他们的罪，他们必须承受他们的惩罚。他们都将象孩子们用纸牌搭成的东西，被创造者轻轻地一吹就一个一个地跌倒，即使他们有两百个之多。三个月以前，是圣·梅朗先生，两个月以前圣·梅朗夫人，不久以前，是巴罗斯，今天，是那年老的诺瓦蒂埃或年轻的瓦朗蒂娜了。”

“你知道了吗？”莫雷尔喊道，基督山已使他陷于极度的恐怖中，——“你什么都知道了，却什么都不说？”

“这跟我有什么关系？”基督山耸耸肩答道。“我可认识那些人吗？我何必损失了这个去救那个呢？哼，不，因为我对害人的人和牺牲者之间，我没有偏爱。”

“可是，”莫雷尔悲哀地喊道，——“我爱她呀！”

“你爱——谁？”基督山喊道，跳起来抓住莫雷尔举向天空的那两只手。

“我舍命不顾一切地爱她——我疯狂地爱她——我愿意用自己生命的血去替她的一滴眼泪——我爱瓦朗蒂娜·维尔福，就是他们现在正在谋害的那个人！你懂得我的话吗？我爱她，替我去问上帝，我怎样才能挽救她？”

基督山发出一声只有那些听到过一只受伤的狮子的吼声的人才能想象得出的喊叫。“不幸的人哪！”他喊道，这一次轮到他来搓自己的双手了，“你爱瓦朗蒂娜！——爱那个该死的家族的女儿！”莫雷尔从来不曾见过他有这样的表情；他从来不曾遇过这样可怕的眼光；即使在战场上，在阿尔及利亚激烈搏斗的夜间，当枪弹在他四周交织着的时候，他也不曾经历过这样的恐怖。他们惊惶地往后退了几步。

至于基督山，在一阵激动以后，他的眼睛闪了一会儿，象是内心的闪光照花了眼。一会儿，他已这样有力地约束住自己；他那猛烈地起伏的胸膛平息了下去，象是乌云过去后那汹涌的波涛受了阳光和蔼的照射一样。这种沉默挣扎和自制大约持续了二十秒钟；然后，伯爵抬起他那苍白的脸。“瞧。”

他说，“我亲爱的朋友，上帝在惩罚那些最粗心和无情的人，惩罚他们漠视出现在他们面前的恐怖的情景。我，一个无情而好奇的旁观者。我，曾冷眼注视着这场悲剧的发生。我，在秘密的保护之下（有钱有势就容易保持秘密），象一个恶作剧的天使那样嘲笑着人们所犯的罪恶，——我也被那条我注视着它行动的赤练蛇咬伤了，而且现在正在咬我的心口上！”

莫雷尔呻吟着。

“来，来，”伯爵继续说，“怨艾是没有用的！拿出男子汉的勇气来，坚强一点，不要失掉希望，因为有我在这儿，我可以为你设法。”

莫雷尔伤心地摇摇头。

“我告诉你不要放开希望。你懂得我的意思？”基督山大声说。“要记得：我从来不撒谎，也从不受人欺骗。现在是十一点钟，马西米兰，感谢上帝让你在中午来而不是在晚上或明天早晨来！听着，莫雷尔！现在是中午，假如瓦朗蒂娜现在没有死，她就不会死的了。”

“怎么会呢？”莫雷尔喊道，“我离开的时候她已经奄奄一息呀！”

基督山用双手捧住他头。在那个沉甸甸地装满秘密的脑子里，究竟在想些什么呢？光明天使或黑暗之神对那个冤仇难解而同时又宽宏大量的头脑到底说了些什么话呢？那只有上帝知道了。

基督山再一次抬头来，这一次，他的脸平静得象刚睡醒的小孩子一样。“马西米兰，”他说，“回家去吧。我命令你不要乱动，不要采取任何方法，不要让你的脸上流露一丝忧愁。我会把消息给你的。去吧！”

“噢，伯爵，你那种镇定的态度吓坏了我。难道你有起死回生的能力吗？难道你是超人吗？难道你是一位天使？难道你是上帝吗？”那个从不在危险面前发抖的青年，在基督山带着一个慈爱的忧郁的微笑望着他，使马西米兰觉得眼泪充满了自己的眼眶。

“我能够为你做许多事情，我的朋友，”伯爵答道。“去吧，必须独自好好想一会儿。”

基督山对他周围的一切都有一种特别的控制力，莫雷尔不想再说些什么。他紧紧地握了握伯爵的手走了。他在门口站了一会儿等待巴浦斯汀，他正从梅狄侬路跑过来。

这时，维尔福和阿夫里尼已经赶回家来了。他们到家的时候，瓦朗蒂娜还没有苏醒过来；医生正十分仔细地检查这个虚弱的病人。维尔福密切地注视着他的脸和嘴唇，等待检查的结果。诺瓦蒂埃的脸甚至比那瓦朗蒂娜更苍白，他也是全神贯注地等待着，比维尔福更急于想知道医生的决断。终于，阿夫里尼终于慢吞吞地说出这几个字：“她居然还活着！”

“居然？”医生说，“我再说一遍，她竟然还活着，而这使我感到很惊奇。”

“她得救了吗？”她的父亲的问。

“是的，只要她还活着就行了。”

这时，阿夫里尼的眼光接触到了诺梯埃的眼光，他的眼睛里闪烁着一种异样的喜悦和包含着很深的涵义，这些全引起了医生的注意。他把瓦朗蒂娜放回到椅子上，她的嘴唇是那样苍白无色，简直与她的面孔一样灰白。然后他一动不动地站着，望着诺瓦蒂埃，诺瓦蒂埃似乎已预料到他所做的一切。

“阁下，”阿夫里尼对维尔福说，“请您去叫瓦朗蒂娜小姐的婢女来。”

维尔福亲自去找她，阿夫里尼走到诺瓦蒂埃面前。“您有话要告诉我吗？”他问。

老人意味深长的眨一眨他的眼睛。我们应该记得，这是他所能做的唯一表示肯定动作。

“私下说吗？”

“是的。”

“嗯，我陪您谈一会儿。”这时维尔福回来了，后面跟着那个贴身婢女，婢女的后面是维尔福夫人。

“这可怜的孩子怎样啦？她离开我房间的时候就说有点不舒服，但我以为那是无关紧要的。”维尔福夫人含着眼泪，带着一种亲生母亲对女儿那种怜爱的表情走近瓦朗蒂娜，拿起她的一只手，阿夫里尼继续望着诺瓦蒂埃；他看到那老人的两眼瞪得滚圆，面颊变得通白而颤抖，汗珠顺着他的额头往下滴。

“啊！”他说，不由自主地顺着诺瓦蒂埃的眼光望过去，而诺瓦蒂埃的眼光正紧紧盯住维尔福夫人，维尔福再三地说，“让这可怜的孩子躺在床上比较好些，芬妮，我们抬她到床上去。”

阿夫里尼先生觉到那个建议给了他一个单独跟诺瓦梯埃密谈的一个机会，便表示那是最好的办法；但他吩咐，除了他的命令，禁止给她吃喝任何东西。

她们抬着瓦朗蒂娜走了；她已经醒过来，但却还不能行动或说话，这次发作把她周身的骨都抖松了。可是她还能给她的祖父一个目光。阿夫里尼跟着病人出去，开了一张药方，吩咐维尔福乘一辆轻便马车亲自到药剂师那儿去取药，亲自拿来，他在他女儿的卧室里等他。然后，又重新吩咐一遍不准给瓦朗蒂娜吃喝任何东西以后，他又回到诺瓦蒂埃的房间里，小心地关上房门，确定没以有人在窃听，便说：“嗯，您对于您孙女儿的病，知道一点了吧？”

“是的。”老人说。

“我们不能再浪费时间，我问，你必须回答我。”

诺瓦蒂埃做了一个愿意回答的表示。

“您预料到瓦朗蒂娜会遭到这种意外的打击吗？”

“是的。”

阿夫里尼想了一会；然后走近到诺瓦蒂埃面前。“请原谅我下面所说的话，”他说，“但在目前这种形下，任何一点迹象都不应该轻视。您可曾看到可怜的巴罗斯去世的情形吗？”

抬起眼睛望着上天。

“您知道他死的原因吗？”阿夫里尼把手搭在诺瓦蒂埃的肩上问。“是的。”老人回答。

“您以为他是自然死亡的吗？”

在诺瓦蒂埃僵硬的嘴唇上，有一种难以辨察的微笑。

“那末您以为巴罗斯是被毒死的？”

“是的。”

“您以为他服下的毒药本来是预备给他吃的吗？”

“不。”

“您以为现在想害死瓦朗蒂娜的那个人，就是无意之间毒死巴罗斯的那个人吗？”

“是的。”

“那末她也要死吗？”阿夫里尼用他那尖锐的回目光盯住诺瓦蒂埃问。他等待着在老人身上所产生反应。

“不！”他带着一种即使最聪明的推测者见了也会感到迷惑的得意神情回答。

“那末您还抱着希望？”阿夫里尼惊奇地说。

“是的。”

“您希望什么呢？”老人用他的眼光表示他无法回答。“啊，是了，不错！”阿夫里尼慢慢地说。然后，他转过去对诺瓦蒂埃说，“您希望那凶手就此歇手不干？”

“不。”

“那末您指望毒药在瓦朗蒂娜身上不能发生效果吗？”

“是的。”

“您当然也知道，”阿里夫里尼说，“这一次是有人故意要毒死她的。”

老人表示他对这一点并无异义。

“那末您怎么能希望瓦朗蒂娜可以逃脱呢？”

诺瓦蒂埃把他的眼光紧紧地盯着一个地方。阿夫里尼顺着那个方向望过去，发觉他的眼光盯在他每天早晨服用的那只药瓶上。“啊，啊！”阿夫里尼说，突然有了一个念头，“难道您已经——”

诺瓦蒂埃不等他讲完就说：“是的。”

“要她能经受住这种毒药吗？”

“是的。”

“而您的方法是让她逐渐适应——”

“是的，是的，是的。”诺瓦蒂埃说，很高兴对方能懂得他的意思。

“的确，您听我讲过：我给您的药里含有木鳖精的吧？”

“是的。”

“她逐渐适应了那种毒药，您希望她可以产生抵抗同类毒药的能力？”

诺瓦蒂埃接着露出惊喜的神情。

“您成功了！”阿夫里尼喊道。“没有那些预防措施，瓦朗蒂娜在我赶来以前早就死掉了。那毒药如果份量非常重，但她只是昏厥过去而已。这一次，看来瓦朗蒂娜是不会死的了。”

一种无法形容的喜悦充满了老人的眼睛。他带着一种无限感激的神情抬头望天。这个时候，维尔福回来了。“喏，医生，”他说，“您派我去买的东西买回来了。”

“这是当着您的面配制的吗？”

“是的。”检察官回答。

“它一直没有离开过您的手吗？”

“没有。”

阿夫里尼接过药瓶，把几滴药水滴在他的手掌心里，尝了一下。“嗯，”他说，“我们到瓦朗蒂娜那儿去吧，我要去吩咐每一个人该干的事情，而您，维尔福先生，您亲自监督他们不要违背我的命令。”

当阿夫里尼在维尔福的陪伴下回到瓦朗蒂娜的房间里去的时候，一位神情严肃、语气平和而果断的意大利神父租下了维尔福先生隔壁的那座房子。谁都不知道房子里的三个房客会在两小时内搬走；不过这一阵有人传说，那座房子的根基不稳固，随时都有倒塌的可能，——但是，这种随时倒塌的危险却并没有阻止那位新房客在当天五点钟左右带着他最简单的家具搬进来。那位新房客签了一张三年、六年或九年的租约，并按照房子主人的规矩，预付了六个月房租。这位新房客，我们已经说过，是一个意大利神父，自称为琪亚柯摩·布沙尼先生。他很快就找来了工匠；当天晚上，街上的行人惊奇地看见木匠和泥水匠在匆匆地修理危房的墙基..