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M. D'Avrigny soon restored the magistrate to consciousness, who had looked like a second
corpse in that chamber of death. "Oh, death is in my house!" cried Villefort.
"Say, rather, crime!" replied the doctor.
"M. d'Avrigny," cried Villefort, "I cannot tell you all I feel at this moment -- terror, grief,
madness."
"Yes," said M. d'Avrigny with an imposing calmness, "but I think it is now time to act. I think it
is time to stop this torrent of mortality. I can no longer bear to be in possession of these secrets
without the hope of seeing the victims and society generally revenged."
Villefort cast a gloomy look around him. "In my house," murmured he, "in my house!"
"Come, magistrate," said M. d'Avrigny, "show yourself a man. As an interpreter of the law, do honor
to your profession by sacrificing your selfish interests to it."
"You make me shudder, doctor. Do you talk of a sacrifice?"
"I do."
"Do you then suspect any one?"
"I suspect no one. Death raps at your door -- it enters -- it goes, not blindfolded, but
circumspectly, from room to room. Well, I follow its course, I track its passage. I adopt the wisdom
of the ancients and feel my way, for my friendship for your family and my respect for you are as a
twofold bandage over my eyes. Well" --
"Oh, speak, speak, doctor. I shall have courage."
"Well, sir, you have in your establishment, or in your family perhaps, one of the frightful
monstrosities of which each century produces only one. Locusta and Agrippina, living at the same
time, were an exception, and proved the determination of providence to effect the entire ruin of the
Roman empire, sullied by so many crimes. Brunehilde and Fredegonde were the results of the painful
struggle of civilization in its infancy, when man was learning to control mind, were it even by an
emissary from the realms of darkness. All these women had been, or were, beautiful. The same flower
of innocence had flourished or was still flourishing on their brow, that is seen on the brow of the
culprit in your house."
Villefort shrieked, clasped his hands, and looked at the doctor with a supplicating air. But the
latter went on without pity:
"'Seek whom the crime will profit,' says an axiom of jurisprudence."
"Doctor," cried Villefort, "alas, doctor, how often has man's justice been deceived by those fatal
words. I know not why, but I feel that this crime" --
"You acknowledge, then, the existence of the crime?"
"Yes, I see too plainly that it does exist. But it seems that it is intended to affect me
personally. I fear an attack myself after all these disasters."
"Oh, man," murmured d'Avrigny, "the most selfish of all animals, the most personal of all creatures,
who believes the earth turns, the sun shines, and death strikes for him alone. An ant cursing God
from the top of a blade of grass! And have those who have lost their lives lost nothing? -- M. de
Saint-Meran, Madame de Saint-Meran, M. Noirtier" --
"How? M. Noirtier?"
"Yes. Think you it was the poor servant's life was coveted? No, no. Like Shakespeare's 'Polonius,'
he died for another. It was Noirtier the lemonade was intended for -- it is Noirtier, logically
speaking, who drank it. The other drank it only by accident, and although Barrois is dead, it was
Noirtier whose death was wished for."
"But why did it not kill my father?"
"I told you one evening in the garden after Madame de Saint-Meran's death -- because his system is
accustomed to that very poison, and the dose was trifling to him, which would be fatal to another.
Because no one knows, not even the assassin, that for the last twelve months I have given M.
Noirtier brucine for his paralytic affection, while the assassin is not ignorant, for he has proved
that brucine is a violent poison."
"Oh, have pity -- have pity!" murmured Villefort, wringing his hands.
"Follow the culprit's steps. He first kills M. de Saint-Meran" --
"Oh, doctor!"
"I would swear to it. What I heard of his symptoms agrees too well with what I have seen in the
other cases." Villefort ceased to contend; he only groaned. "He first kills M. de Saint-Meran,"
repeated the doctor, "then Madame de Saint-Meran -- a double fortune to inherit." Villefort wiped
the perspiration from his forehead. "Listen attentively."
"Alas," stammered Villefort, "I do not lose a single word."
"M. Noirtier," resumed M. d'Avrigny in the same pitiless tone, "M. Noirtier had once made a will
against you -- against your family -- in favor of the poor, in fact. M. Noirtier is spared because
nothing is expected from him. But he has no sooner destroyed his first will and made a second, than
for fear he should make a third, he is struck down. The will was made the day before yesterday, I
believe. You see there has been no time lost."
"Oh, mercy, M. d'Avrigny!"
"No mercy, sir! The physician has a sacred mission on earth, and to fulfil it he begins at the
source of life, and goes down to the mysterious darkness of the tomb. When crime has been committed,
and God, doubtless in anger, turns away his face, it is for the physician to bring the culprit to
justice."
"Have mercy on my child, sir," murmured Villefort.
"You see it is yourself who have first named her -- you, her father."
"Have pity on Valentine! Listen -- it is impossible! I would as willingly accuse myself! Valentine,
whose heart is pure as a diamond or a lily."
"No pity, procureur. The crime is flagrant. Mademoiselle herself packed all the medicines which were
sent to M. de Saint-Meran, and M. de Saint-Meran is dead. Mademoiselle de Villefort prepared all the
cooling draughts which Madame de Saint-Meran took, and Madame de Saint-Meran is dead. Mademoiselle
de Villefort took from the hands of Barrois, who was sent out, the lemonade which M. Noirtier had
every morning, and he has escaped by a miracle. Mademoiselle de Villefort is the culprit -- she is
the poisoner! To you, as the king's attorney, I denounce Mademoiselle de Villefort. Do your duty."
"Doctor, I resist no longer -- I can no longer defend myself -- I believe you. But for pity's sake,
spare my life, my honor!"
"M. de Villefort," replied the doctor with increased vehemence, "there are occasions when I dispense
with all foolish human circumspection. If your daughter had committed only one crime and I saw her
meditating another, I would say 'Warn her, punish her, let her pass the remainder of her life in a
convent, weeping and praying.' If she had committed two crimes, I would say, 'Here, M. de Villefort,
is a poison that the prisoner is not acquainted with -- one that has no known antidote, quick as
thought, rapid as lightning, mortal as the thunderbolt. Give her that poison, recommending her soul
to God, and save your honor and your life, for it is yours she aims at, and I can picture her
approaching your pillow with her hypocritical smiles and her sweet exhortations. Woe to you, M. de
Villefort, if you do not strike first!' This is what I would say had she only killed two persons,
but she has seen three deaths -- has contemplated three murdered persons -- has knelt by three
corpses! To the scaffold with the poisoner -- to the scaffold! Do you talk of your honor? Do what I
tell you and immortality awaits you!"
Villefort fell on his knees. "Listen," said he, "I have not the strength of mind you have, or rather
that which you would not have if instead of my daughter Valentine your daughter Madeleine were
concerned."
The doctor turned pale. "Doctor, every son of woman is born to suffer and to die. I am content to
suffer and to await death."
"Beware," said M. d'Avrigny, "it may come slowly. You will see it approach after having struck your
father, your wife, perhaps your son."
Villefort, suffocating, pressed the doctor's arm. "Listen," cried he. "Pity me -- help me! No, my
daughter is not guilty. If you drag us both before a tribunal I will still say, 'No, my daughter is
not guilty -- there is no crime in my house. I will not acknowledge a crime in my house, for when
crime enters a dwelling, it is like death -- it does not come alone.' Listen. What does it signify
to you if I am murdered? Are you my friend? Are you a man? Have you a heart? No, you are a
physician! Well, I tell you I will not drag my daughter before a tribunal and give her up to the
executioner! The bare idea would kill me -- would drive me like a madman to dig my heart out with my
fingernails! And if you were mistaken, doctor -- if it were not my daughter -- if I should come one
day, pale as a spectre, and say to you, 'Assassin, you have killed my child!' -- hold -- if that
should happen, although I am a Christian, M. d'Avrigny, I should kill myself."
"Well," said the doctor after a moment's silence. "I will wait."
Villefort looked at him as if he had doubted his words. "Only," continued M. d'Avrigny with a slow
and solemn tone, "if anyone falls ill in your house, if you feel yourself attacked, do not send for
me, for I will come no more. I will consent to share this dreadful secret with you, but I will not
allow shame and remorse to grow and increase in my conscience as crime and misery will in your
house."
"Then you abandon me, doctor?"
"Yes, for I can follow you no farther, and I only stop at the foot of the scaffold. Some further
discovery will be made which will bring this dreadful tragedy to a close. Adieu."
"I entreat you, doctor!"
"All the horrors that disturb my thoughts make your house odious and fatal. Adieu, sir."
"One word -- one single word more, doctor! You go, leaving me in all the horror of my situation
after increasing it by what you have revealed to me. But what will be reported of the sudden death
of the poor old servant?"
"True," said M. d'Avrigny, "we will return."
The doctor went out first, followed by M. de Villefort. The terrified servants were on the stairs
and in the passage where the doctor would pass.
"Sir," said d'Avrigny to Villefort so loud that all might hear, "poor Barrois has led too sedentary
a life of late. Accustomed formerly to ride on horseback or in the carriage to the four corners of
Europe, the monotonous walk around that armchair has killed him -- his blood has thickened. He was
stout and had a short, thick neck. He was attacked with apoplexy and I was called in too late. By
the way," added he in a low tone, "take care to throw away that cup of syrup of violets in the
ashes."
The doctor, without shaking hands with Villefort, without adding a word to what he had said, went
out amid the tears and lamentations of the whole household.
The same evening all Villefort's servants, who had assembled in the kitchen and had a long
consultation, came to tell Madame de Villefort that they wished to leave. No entreaty, no
proposition of increased wages, could induce them to remain. To every argument they replied, "We
must go, for death is in this house." They all left, in spite of prayers and entreaties, testifying
their regret at leaving so good a master and mistress, and especially Mademoiselle Valentine, so
good, so kind, and so gentle.
Villefort looked at Valentine as they said this. She was in tears, and, strange as it was, in spite
of the emotions he felt at the sight of these tears, he looked also at Madame de Villefort, and it
appeared to him as if a slight gloomy smile had passed over her thin lips like a meteor seen passing
inauspiciously between two clouds in a stormy sky.
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