Chapter 185: Chapter 185

She entered first. Noirtier sat in his chair, alert to every sound, watching the door. When he saw Valentine, his eye brightened. Something grave and solemn in the young woman’s approach struck the old man, and his bright eye immediately began questioning her.

"Dear grandfather," she said urgently, "you know my poor grandmother died an hour ago. Now I have no friend in the world except you."

His expressive eyes conveyed the deepest tenderness.

"So only to you can I confide my sorrows and my hopes?"

The paralyzed man indicated "Yes."

Valentine took Maximilian’s hand. "Look carefully at this gentleman."

The old man fixed his scrutinizing gaze on Morrel with slight surprise.

"This is Monsieur Maximilian Morrel," she said. "The son of that good merchant from Marseilles whom you surely remember."

"Yes," the old man signaled.

"He bears an honorable name, which Maximilian is making even more distinguished. At thirty years old, he’s already a captain and an officer of the Legion of Honor."

The old man indicated he remembered him.

"Well, grandfather," Valentine said, kneeling before him and pointing to Maximilian, "I love him, and I will belong only to him. If I’m forced to marry another, I’ll take my own life."

The paralytic’s eyes expressed a multitude of turbulent thoughts.

"You like Monsieur Maximilian Morrel, don’t you, grandfather?" Valentine asked.

"And will you protect us, your children, against my father’s wishes?"

Noirtier cast an intelligent glance at Morrel, as if to say, "Perhaps I can."

Maximilian understood.

"Mademoiselle," he said, "you have a sacred duty in your deceased grandmother’s room. Will you allow me a few minutes alone with Monsieur Noirtier?"

"That’s exactly right," the old man’s eye said. Then he looked anxiously at Valentine.

"Are you afraid he won’t understand you?"

"Oh, we’ve talked about you so often that he knows exactly how I communicate with you." She turned to Maximilian with an adorable smile, though shadowed by sorrow. "He knows everything I know." For more chapters visıt novel※fire.net

Valentine stood, placed a chair for Morrel, and instructed Barrois not to admit anyone. After tenderly embracing her grandfather and sorrowfully bidding Morrel farewell, she left.

To prove he had Valentine’s complete trust and knew all their secrets, Morrel gathered a dictionary, pen, and paper, placing them on a table near the light.

"But first," Morrel said, "allow me to tell you who I am, how much I love Mademoiselle Valentine, and what my intentions are regarding her."

Noirtier signaled that he would listen.

It was a powerful sight, this old man, seemingly a useless burden, becoming the sole protector, support, and advisor to two young, beautiful, strong lovers. His remarkably noble and austere expression struck Morrel, who began his story with trembling voice.

He explained how he’d met Valentine, how he’d fallen in love with her, and how Valentine, in her solitude and misfortune, had accepted his devotion. He described his birth, his position, his fortune. More than once, when he consulted the paralytic’s expression, that look answered, "Good, continue."

"And now," Morrel said, finishing the first part of his account, "now that I’ve told you of my love and hopes, may I explain my intentions?"

"Yes," the old man signaled.

"This was our plan: a carriage was waiting at the gate. I intended to take Valentine to my sister’s house, marry her there, and then respectfully wait for Monsieur Villefort’s forgiveness."

"No," Noirtier indicated.

"We shouldn’t do that?"

"You don’t approve of our plan?"

"There’s another way," Morrel said.

The old man’s questioning eye asked, "What?"

"I’ll seek out Franz d’Epinay, I’m glad to discuss this in Mademoiselle Villefort’s absence, and conduct myself in a way that forces him to challenge me to a duel."

Noirtier’s look continued questioning.

"You want to know what I’ll do?"

"I’ll find him, as I said. I’ll tell him about my connection to Mademoiselle Valentine. If he’s sensible, he’ll prove it by voluntarily renouncing his claim to his fiancée’s hand. Then he’ll have my friendship and loyalty until death. If he refuses, whether from greed or foolish pride, after I’ve explained that he would be stealing my wife, that Valentine loves me and will have no other, I’ll fight him. I’ll give him every advantage, and either I’ll kill him or he’ll kill me. If I’m victorious, he won’t marry Valentine. And if I die, I’m certain Valentine won’t marry him."

Noirtier watched with indescribable pleasure as this noble, sincere face revealed every sentiment. Every word was depicted in his fine features, adding emotional color to an already faithful portrait. Still, when Morrel finished, Noirtier closed his eyes several times, his way of saying "No."

"No?" Morrel said. "You disapprove of this second plan as much as the first?"

"I do," the old man signaled.

"Then what should I do?" Morrel asked. "Madame de Saint-Méran’s final wish was that the marriage not be delayed. Should I just let things happen?"

Noirtier remained still.

"I understand," Morrel said. "I should wait."

"But waiting might ruin our plan, sir," the young man replied. "Valentine has no power alone. She’ll be forced to submit. I’m here now almost miraculously, and I can hardly hope for such a good opportunity again. Believe me, there are only these two plans I’ve proposed. Forgive my presumption, and tell me which you prefer. Do you authorize Mademoiselle Valentine to trust herself to my protection?"

"Do you prefer I confront d’Epinay?"

"Then where will our help come from? By chance?"

"You understand me completely, sir? Forgive my urgency, but my life depends on your answer. Will our help come from you?"

There was such firmness in the look that gave this answer that no one could doubt his will, even if they questioned his power.

"Oh, thank you a thousand times! But how, unless a miracle restores your speech, your movement, how can you, confined to that chair, unable to speak or move, prevent this marriage?"

A smile lit up the old man’s face, a strange smile in the eyes of a paralyzed man.

"Then I must wait?" the young man asked.

"But what about the contract?"

The same smile returned.

"You promise it won’t be signed?"

"Yes," Noirtier said.

"The contract won’t be signed!" Morrel cried. "Forgive me, sir. I can hardly believe such happiness. They really won’t sign it?"

"No," the paralytic said.

Despite this assurance, Morrel still hesitated. The promise of a powerless old man seemed so strange. Rather than being the result of willpower, it might just be the product of a weakened mind. Isn’t it natural for a madman, unaware of his madness, to attempt things beyond his capability? The weak man talks of burdens he can lift, the timid of giants he can face, the poor of treasures he’ll spend.

Whether Noirtier understood the young man’s doubt, or whether he lacked full confidence in Morrel’s obedience, he looked at him uneasily.

"What do you want, sir?" Morrel asked. "Should I renew my promise to remain calm?"

Noirtier’s eye remained fixed and firm, as if to say a simple promise wasn’t enough. Then his gaze moved from Morrel’s face to his hands.

"Should I swear to you, sir?" Maximilian asked.

"Yes," the paralytic said with solemn gravity.

Morrel understood the old man placed great importance on an oath. He extended his hand.

"I swear on my honor," he said, "to await your decision regarding how I should deal with d’Epinay."

"Good," the old man signaled.

"Now," Morrel said, "do you want me to leave?"

"Without seeing Mademoiselle Valentine?"

Morrel indicated he was ready to obey. "But first, allow me to embrace you as your daughter just did."

Noirtier’s expression was unreadable. The young man pressed his lips to the same spot on the old man’s forehead where Valentine’s had been. Then he bowed a second time and left.

Outside the door, he found the old servant waiting with Valentine’s instructions. Morrel was led along a dark passage to a small door opening onto the garden. He quickly found where he’d entered, used the shrubs to reach the top of the wall, and descended his ladder in an instant. He landed in the clover field where his carriage still waited.

He climbed in and, thoroughly exhausted by so many emotions, arrived around midnight at Rue Meslay. He threw himself on his bed and fell into a deep sleep.