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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 1129/1279
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Eleven
o'clock
had
struck
.
The
nurse
,
having
placed
the
beverage
prepared
by
the
doctor
within
reach
of
the
patient
,
and
locked
the
door
,
was
listening
with
terror
to
the
comments
of
the
servants
in
the
kitchen
,
and
storing
her
memory
with
all
the
horrible
stories
which
had
for
some
months
past
amused
the
occupants
of
the
ante-chambers
in
the
house
of
the
king
's
attorney
.
Meanwhile
an
unexpected
scene
was
passing
in
the
room
which
had
been
so
carefully
locked
.
Ten
minutes
had
elapsed
since
the
nurse
had
left
;
Valentine
,
who
for
the
last
hour
had
been
suffering
from
the
fever
which
returned
nightly
,
incapable
of
controlling
her
ideas
,
was
forced
to
yield
to
the
excitement
which
exhausted
itself
in
producing
and
reproducing
a
succession
and
recurrence
of
the
same
fancies
and
images
.
The
night-lamp
threw
out
countless
rays
,
each
resolving
itself
into
some
strange
form
to
her
disordered
imagination
,
when
suddenly
by
its
flickering
light
Valentine
thought
she
saw
the
door
of
her
library
,
which
was
in
the
recess
by
the
chimney-piece
,
open
slowly
,
though
she
in
vain
listened
for
the
sound
of
the
hinges
on
which
it
turned
.
At
any
other
time
Valentine
would
have
seized
the
silken
bell-pull
and
summoned
assistance
,
but
nothing
astonished
her
in
her
present
situation
.
Her
reason
told
her
that
all
the
visions
she
beheld
were
but
the
children
of
her
imagination
,
and
the
conviction
was
strengthened
by
the
fact
that
in
the
morning
no
traces
remained
of
the
nocturnal
phantoms
,
who
disappeared
with
the
coming
of
daylight
.
From
behind
the
door
a
human
figure
appeared
,
but
the
girl
was
too
familiar
with
such
apparitions
to
be
alarmed
,
and
therefore
only
stared
,
hoping
to
recognize
Morrel
.
The
figure
advanced
towards
the
bed
and
appeared
to
listen
with
profound
attention
.
At
this
moment
a
ray
of
light
glanced
across
the
face
of
the
midnight
visitor
.
"
It
is
not
he
,
"
she
murmured
,
and
waited
,
in
the
assurance
that
this
was
but
a
dream
,
for
the
man
to
disappear
or
assume
some
other
form
.
Still
,
she
felt
her
pulse
,
and
finding
it
throb
violently
she
remembered
that
the
best
method
of
dispelling
such
illusions
was
to
drink
,
for
a
draught
of
the
beverage
prepared
by
the
doctor
to
allay
her
fever
seemed
to
cause
a
reaction
of
the
brain
,
and
for
a
short
time
she
suffered
less
.
Valentine
therefore
reached
her
hand
towards
the
glass
,
but
as
soon
as
her
trembling
arm
left
the
bed
the
apparition
advanced
more
quickly
towards
her
,
and
approached
the
young
girl
so
closely
that
she
fancied
she
heard
his
breath
,
and
felt
the
pressure
of
his
hand
.
This
time
the
illusion
,
or
rather
the
reality
,
surpassed
anything
Valentine
had
before
experienced
;
she
began
to
believe
herself
really
alive
and
awake
,
and
the
belief
that
her
reason
was
this
time
not
deceived
made
her
shudder
.
The
pressure
she
felt
was
evidently
intended
to
arrest
her
arm
,
and
she
slowly
withdrew
it
.
Then
the
figure
,
from
whom
she
could
not
detach
her
eyes
,
and
who
appeared
more
protecting
than
menacing
,
took
the
glass
,
and
walking
towards
the
night-light
held
it
up
,
as
if
to
test
its
transparency
.
This
did
not
seem
sufficient
;
the
man
,
or
rather
the
ghost
--
for
he
trod
so
softly
that
no
sound
was
heard
--
then
poured
out
about
a
spoonful
into
the
glass
,
and
drank
it
.
Valentine
witnessed
this
scene
with
a
sentiment
of
stupefaction
.
Every
minute
she
had
expected
that
it
would
vanish
and
give
place
to
another
vision
;
but
the
man
,
instead
of
dissolving
like
a
shadow
,
again
approached
her
,
and
said
in
an
agitated
voice
,
"
Now
you
may
drink
.
"
Valentine
shuddered
.
It
was
the
first
time
one
of
these
visions
had
ever
addressed
her
in
a
living
voice
,
and
she
was
about
to
utter
an
exclamation
.
The
man
placed
his
finger
on
her
lips
.
"
The
Count
of
Monte
Cristo
!
"
she
murmured
.
It
was
easy
to
see
that
no
doubt
now
remained
in
the
young
girl
's
mind
as
to
the
reality
of
the
scene
;
her
eyes
started
with
terror
,
her
hands
trembled
,
and
she
rapidly
drew
the
bedclothes
closer
to
her
.
Still
,
the
presence
of
Monte
Cristo
at
such
an
hour
,
his
mysterious
,
fanciful
,
and
extraordinary
entrance
into
her
room
through
the
wall
,
might
well
seem
impossibilities
to
her
shattered
reason
.
"
Do
not
call
any
one
--
do
not
be
alarmed
,
"
said
the
Count
;
"
do
not
let
a
shade
of
suspicion
or
uneasiness
remain
in
your
breast
;
the
man
standing
before
you
,
Valentine
(
for
this
time
it
is
no
ghost
)
,
is
nothing
more
than
the
tenderest
father
and
the
most
respectful
friend
you
could
dream
of
.
"
Valentine
could
not
reply
;
the
voice
which
indicated
the
real
presence
of
a
being
in
the
room
,
alarmed
her
so
much
that
she
feared
to
utter
a
syllable
;
still
the
expression
of
her
eyes
seemed
to
inquire
,
"
If
your
intentions
are
pure
,
why
are
you
here
?
"
The
count
's
marvellous
sagacity
understood
all
that
was
passing
in
the
young
girl
's
mind
.
