am what would be designated a man of moderate pretensions.
Well, I went to a horse dealer's, where I saw this
magnificent horse, which I have named Medeah. I asked the
price; they told me it was 4,500 francs. I was, therefore,
obliged to give it up, as you may imagine, but I own I went
away with rather a heavy heart, for the horse had looked at
me affectionately, had rubbed his head against me and, when
I mounted him, had pranced in the most delightful way
imaginable, so that I was altogether fascinated with him.
The same evening some friends of mine visited me, -- M. de
Chateau-Renaud, M. Debray, and five or six other choice
spirits, whom you do not know, even by name. They proposed a
game of bouillotte. I never play, for I am not rich enough
to afford to lose, or sufficiently poor to desire to gain.
But I was at my own house, you understand, so there was
nothing to be done but to send for the cards, which I did.

"Just as they were sitting down to table, M. de Monte Cristo
arrived. He took his seat amongst them; they played, and I
won. I am almost ashamed to say that my gains amounted to
5,000 francs. We separated at midnight. I could not defer my
pleasure, so I took a cabriolet and drove to the horse
dealer's. Feverish and excited, I rang at the door. The
person who opened it must have taken me for a madman, for I
rushed at once to the stable. Medeah was standing at the
rack, eating his hay. I immediately put on the saddle and
bridle, to which operation he lent himself with the best
grace possible; then, putting the 4,500 francs into the
hands of the astonished dealer, I proceeded to fulfil my
intention of passing the night in riding in the Champs
Elysees. As I rode by the count's house I perceived a light
in one of the windows, and fancied I saw the shadow of his
figure moving behind the curtain. Now, Valentine, I firmly
believe that he knew of my wish to possess this horse, and
that he lost expressly to give me the means of procuring
him."

"My dear Maximilian, you are really too fanciful; you will
not love even me long. A man who accustoms himself to live
in such a world of poetry and imagination must find far too
little excitement in a common, every-day sort of attachment
such as ours. But they are calling me. Do you hear?"

"Ah, Valentine," said Maximilian, "give me but one finger
through this opening in the grating, one finger, the
littlest finger of all, that I may have the happiness of
kissing it."

"Maximilian, we said we would be to each other as two
voices, two shadows."

"As you will, Valentine."

"Shall you be happy if I do what you wish?"

"Oh, yes!" Valentine mounted on a bench, and passed not only
her finger but her whole hand through the opening.
Maximilian uttered a cry of delight, and, springing
forwards, seized the hand extended towards him, and
imprinted on it a fervent and impassioned kiss. The little
hand was then immediately withdrawn, and the young man saw
Valentine hurrying towards the house, as though she were
almost terrified at her own sensations.



Chapter 58
M. Noirtier de Villefort.

We will now relate what was passing in the house of the
king's attorney after the departure of Madame Danglars and
her daughter, and during the time of the conversation
between Maximilian and Valentine, which we have just
detailed. M. de Villefort entered his father's room,
followed by Madame de Villefort. Both of the visitors, after
saluting the old man and speaking to Barrois, a faithful
servant, who had been twenty-five years in his service, took
their places on either side of the paralytic.

M. Noirtier was sitting in an arm-chair, which moved upon
casters, in which he was wheeled into the room in the
morning, and in the same way drawn out again at night. He
was placed before a large glass, which reflected the whole
apartment, and so, without any attempt to move, which would
have been impossible, he could see all who entered the room
and everything which was going on around him. M. Noirtier,
although almost as immovable as a corpse, looked at the
new-comers with a quick and intelligent expression,
perceiving at once, by their ceremonious courtesy, that they
were come on business of an unexpected and official
character. Sight and hearing were the only senses remaining,
and they, like two solitary sparks, remained to animate the
miserable body which seemed fit for nothing but the grave;
it was only, however, by means of one of these senses that
he could reveal the thoughts and feelings that still
occupied his mind, and the look by which he gave expression
to his inner life was like the distant gleam of a candle
which a traveller sees by night across some desert place,
and knows that a living being dwells beyond the silence and
obscurity. Noirtier's hair was long and white, and flowed


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