LVIII. M. Noirtier de Villefort.

LVIII

M. Noirtier de Villefort.

Here is what had taken place in the house of the king's attorney after the departure of Mme Danglars and her daughter, and during the conversation we have just reported.

M. de Villefort had entered his father's room, followed by Mme de Villefort; as for Valentine, we know where she was.

Both, after bowing to the old man, after dismissing Barrois, an old servant who had been in his service for more than twenty-five years, had taken their places at his side.

M. Noirtier, seated in his great rolling armchair, into which he was placed in the morning and from which he was drawn out in the evening, seated before a mirror which reflected the whole apartment and allowed him to see, without even attempting a movement that had become impossible, who entered his room, who went out, and what was being done all around him; M. Noirtier, motionless as a corpse, looked with intelligent and lively eyes upon his children, whose ceremonious bow announced to him some unexpected official step.

Sight and hearing were the only two senses which still animated, like two sparks, this human matter already three-quarters shaped for the grave; yet, of these two senses, only one could reveal outwardly the inner life which animated the statue; and the gaze which betrayed this inner life was like one of those distant lights which, during the night, tell the traveler lost in a desert that there is still a living being watching in that silence and obscurity.

Thus, in the black eye of old Noirtier, surmounted by a black brow, while all his hair, which he wore long and hanging upon his shoulders, was white; in that eye, as happens with every organ of man exercised at the expense of the other organs, had concentrated all the activity, all the skill, all the strength, all the intelligence, formerly diffused through that body and that mind. Certainly, the gesture of the arm, the sound of the voice, the posture of the body were lacking, but that powerful eye supplied all: he commanded with his eyes; he thanked with his eyes; he was a corpse with living eyes, and nothing was at times more frightful than that marble face atop which a wrath kindled or a joy shone. Only three persons knew how to understand the language of the poor paralytic: Villefort, Valentine, and the old servant of whom we have already spoken. But as Villefort rarely saw his father, and, as it were, only when he could not do otherwise; as, when he did see him, he did not seek to please him by understanding him, all the happiness of the old man rested in his granddaughter, and Valentine had, by dint of devotion, love, and patience, come to understand with a glance all the thoughts of Noirtier. To this language, mute or unintelligible to everyone else, she replied with her whole voice, her whole countenance, her whole soul, so that there were established animated dialogues between this young girl and this supposed clay, well-nigh returned to dust, and which nevertheless was still a man of immense learning, unheard-of penetration, and a will as powerful as may be that soul enclosed in a matter through which it has lost the power of making itself obeyed.

Valentine had thus resolved the strange problem of understanding the old man's thought in order to make her own thought understood by him; and, thanks to this study, it was very rare that, in the ordinary things of life, she did not precisely hit upon the desire of that living soul, or the need of that half-insensible corpse.

As for the servant, as for twenty-five years, as we have said, he had served his master, he knew all his habits so well, that it was rare Noirtier had need to ask him for anything.

Villefort, consequently, needed the help of neither one nor the other to open with his father the strange conversation he had come to provoke. He himself, we have said, knew perfectly the vocabulary of the old man, and if he did not make use of it more often, it was from boredom and indifference. He therefore let Valentine go down into the garden, he therefore sent Barrois away, and after taking his place at the right of his father, while Mme de Villefort sat at his left:

"Sir," said he, "do not be surprised that Valentine did not come up with us and that I sent Barrois away, for the conference we are about to have together is of a kind which cannot take place before a young girl or a servant; Mme de Villefort and I have a communication to make to you."

Noirtier's face remained impassive during this preamble, while on the contrary Villefort's eye seemed to wish to plunge to the very depths of the old man's heart.

"This communication," continued the king's attorney with his icy tone which seemed never to admit of contestation, "we are sure, Mme de Villefort and I, will be agreeable to you."

The old man's eye continued to remain inert; he listened: that was all.

"Sir," resumed Villefort, "we are marrying Valentine."

A wax figure would not have remained colder at this news than did the face of the old man.

"The marriage will take place within three months," resumed Villefort.

The old man's eye continued to be lifeless.

Mme de Villefort took the word in her turn, and hastened to add:

"We thought this news would be of interest to you, sir; besides, Valentine has always seemed to attract your affection: it remains for us therefore only to tell you the name of the young man destined for her. It is one of the most honorable matches to which Valentine could aspire; there is fortune, a fair name, and perfect guarantees of happiness in the conduct and tastes of him whom we destine for her, and whose name cannot be unknown to you. It is M. Franz de Quesnel, baron d'Épinay."

Villefort, during his wife's little speech, fixed upon the old man a more attentive gaze than ever. When Mme de Villefort pronounced the name of Franz, the eye of Noirtier, which his son knew so well, trembled, and the eyelids, dilating as lips might have done to let words pass, let, they too, a flash pass.

The king's attorney, who knew the old public enmity which had existed between his father and Franz's father, understood this fire and this agitation; but nevertheless he let them pass as unnoticed, and taking up the word where his wife had left it:

"Sir," said he, "it is important, as you well understand, she being so near to attaining her nineteenth year, that Valentine be at last settled. Nevertheless, we have not forgotten you in our conferences, and we assured ourselves beforehand that the husband of Valentine would consent, if not to live near us, who might perhaps embarrass a young household, at least that you, whom Valentine particularly cherishes, and who, on your side, seem to return this affection, would live near them, so that you would lose none of your habits, and would have only two children instead of one to watch over you."

The flash of Noirtier's gaze became bloodshot.

Assuredly something frightful was passing in the soul of this old man; assuredly the cry of grief and wrath rose to his throat, and, unable to burst forth, stifled him, for his face flushed and his lips turned blue.

Villefort quietly opened a window, saying:

"It is very warm in here, and this heat is bad for M. Noirtier."

Then he came back, but without sitting down again.

"This marriage," added Mme de Villefort, "pleases M. d'Épinay and his family; besides his family consists only of an uncle and an aunt. His mother having died at the moment she gave him birth, and his father having been assassinated in 1815, that is to say when the child was scarcely two years old, he is therefore dependent only upon his own will."

"Mysterious assassination," said Villefort, "and whose authors have remained unknown, although suspicion hovered without alighting above the heads of many people."

Noirtier made such an effort that his lips contracted as if to smile.

"Now," continued Villefort, "the true culprits, those who know they committed the crime, those upon whom may descend the justice of men during their life and the justice of God after their death, would be very happy to be in our place, and to have a daughter to offer to M. Franz d'Épinay to extinguish even the appearance of suspicion."

Noirtier had calmed himself with a power which should not have been expected of that broken organization.

"Yes, I understand," he answered Villefort with his gaze; and that gaze expressed at once profound disdain and intelligent anger.

Villefort, for his part, answered this gaze, in which he had read what it contained, with a slight movement of the shoulders.

Then he signed to his wife to rise.

"Now, sir," said Mme de Villefort, "accept all my respects. Do you wish Édouard to come present his respects to you?"

It was agreed that the old man expressed his approval by closing his eyes, his refusal by blinking them several times, and had some wish to express when he raised them to heaven.

If he asked for Valentine, he closed only the right eye.

If he asked for Barrois, he closed the left eye.

At Mme de Villefort's proposal, he blinked his eyes briskly.

Mme de Villefort, met with an evident refusal, pinched her lips.

"Shall I send you Valentine then?" said she.

"Yes," said the old man, closing his eyes with vivacity.

M. and Mme de Villefort bowed and went out, ordering that Valentine be called, she being already warned, moreover, that she would have something to do during the day near M. Noirtier.

Behind them, Valentine, still all rosy with emotion, entered the old man's room. A single glance sufficed for her to understand how much her grandfather suffered and how many things he had to tell her.

"Oh! good papa," she cried, "what has happened then? They have angered you, have they not, and you are in a rage?"

"Yes," said he, closing his eyes.

"With whom then? with my father? no; with Mme de Villefort? no; with me?"

The old man signed yes.

"With me?" resumed Valentine in astonishment.

The old man renewed the sign.

"And what have I done to you then, dear good papa?" cried Valentine.

No answer; she continued:

"I have not seen you all day; they have then reported something of me to you?"

"Yes," said the old man's gaze with vivacity.

"Let me see, let me think. My God, I swear to you, good father.... Ah!... M. and Mme de Villefort have just come from here, have they not?"

"Yes."

"And it is they who told you those things that anger you? What can it be? Do you wish me to go ask them so that I may excuse myself to you?"

"No, no," said the gaze.

"Oh! but you frighten me. What can they have said, my God!"

And she searched her thoughts.

"Oh! I have it," said she, lowering her voice and drawing near the old man. "They have spoken of my marriage, perhaps?"

"Yes," replied the wrathful gaze.

"I understand; you are vexed with me for my silence. Oh! you see, it is that they had earnestly recommended me not to tell you anything of it; it is that they had told nothing of it to me myself, and that I had in some sort surprised this secret through indiscretion; that is why I was so reserved with you. Forgive me, good papa Noirtier."

Having become fixed and inert again, the gaze seemed to answer: "It is not only your silence that grieves me."

"What then?" asked the young girl. "You think perhaps that I would abandon you, good father, and that my marriage would make me forgetful?"

"No," said the old man.

"They told you then that M. d'Épinay consents to our living together?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you angry?"

The eyes of the old man took an expression of infinite tenderness.

"Yes, I understand," said Valentine; "because you love me?"

The old man signed yes.

"And you are afraid I should be unhappy?"

"Yes."

"You do not love M. Franz?"

The eyes repeated three or four times:

"No, no, no."

"Then you are very grieved, good father?"

"Yes."

"Well, listen," said Valentine, kneeling before Noirtier and passing her arms around his neck, "I too am very grieved, for, I also do not love M. Franz d'Épinay."

A flash of joy passed into the grandfather's eyes.

"When I wished to retire to the convent, you remember well that you were so very angry with me?"

A tear moistened the arid eyelid of the old man.

"Well," continued Valentine, "it was to escape this marriage which is my despair."

Noirtier's breathing became panting.

"Then this marriage grieves you greatly, good father? O my God, if you could help me, if we two could break their plan! But you are without force against them, you whose mind is nevertheless so keen and will so firm, but when it is a question of struggling you are as weak and even weaker than I. Alas! you would have been for me so powerful a protector in the days of your strength and health; but today you can only understand me and rejoice or grieve with me. It is a last happiness which God forgot to take from me with the others."

At these words, there came into Noirtier's eyes such an impression of malice and depth, that the young girl thought she read in them these words:

"You are mistaken, I can still do much for you."

"You can do something for me, dear good papa?" translated Valentine.

"Yes."

Noirtier raised his eyes to heaven. It was the sign agreed between him and Valentine when he desired something.

"What do you want, dear father? let us see."

Valentine searched a moment in her mind, expressing aloud her thoughts as they presented themselves to her, and seeing that to all she could say the old man constantly answered no:

"Come," said she, "the great means, since I am so silly!"

Then she recited one after another all the letters of the alphabet, from A to N, while her smile interrogated the eye of the paralytic; at N, Noirtier signed yes.

"Ah!" said Valentine, "the thing you desire begins with the letter N! it is with the N we have to deal? Well, let us see, what do we want of the N? Na, ne, ni, no."

"Yes, yes, yes," said the old man.

"Ah! it is no?"

"Yes."

Valentine went to fetch a dictionary which she placed on a reading desk before Noirtier: she opened it, and when she had seen the old man's eye fixed upon the leaves, her finger ran quickly up and down the columns. The exercise, for the six years that Noirtier had been in the sorry state in which he found himself, had made the trials so easy to him, that she guessed the old man's thought as quickly as if he himself had been able to search in the dictionary.

At the word notary, Noirtier signed to stop.

"Notary," said she; "you want a notary, good papa?"

The old man signed that it was indeed a notary he desired.

"A notary must then be sent for?" asked Valentine.

"Yes," said the paralytic.

"Must my father know of it?"

"Yes."

"Are you in haste to have your notary?"

"Yes."

"Then he shall be sent for at once, dear father. Is that all you want?"

"Yes."

Valentine ran to the bell and called a servant to beg him to bring M. or Mme de Villefort to the grandfather.

"Are you content?" said Valentine; "yes... I should think so: eh? that was not easy to find, was it?"

And the young girl smiled at the grandfather as she might have done at a child.

M. de Villefort entered, brought back by Barrois.

"What do you want, sir?" asked he of the paralytic.

"Sir," said Valentine, "my grandfather desires a notary."

At this strange and above all unexpected request, M. de Villefort exchanged a glance with the paralytic.

"Yes," said the latter with a firmness which indicated that, with the help of Valentine and his old servant, who now knew what he desired, he was ready to sustain the struggle.

"You ask for the notary?" repeated Villefort.

"Yes."

"For what purpose?"

Noirtier did not answer.

"But what do you need a notary for?" asked Villefort.

The paralytic's gaze remained immobile and consequently mute, which meant: I persist in my will.

"To play us some bad trick?" said Villefort. "Is it worth the trouble?"

"But finally," said Barrois, ready to insist with the habitual perseverance of old servants, "if monsieur wants a notary, it is apparently because he has need of one. So I am going to fetch a notary."

Barrois recognized no other master than Noirtier and never admitted that his wishes should be contested in anything.

"Yes, I want a notary," said the old man, closing his eyes with an air of defiance and as if he had said: Let us see if anyone will dare refuse me what I want.

"You shall have a notary, since you absolutely want one, sir; but I shall excuse myself to him and excuse you yourself, for the scene will be quite ridiculous."

"No matter," said Barrois, "I am going to fetch him all the same."

And the old servant went out triumphant.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”