Chapter 73

CHAPTER 73
The Promise.

It was, indeed, Maximilian Morrel, who had passed a wretched
existence since the previous day. With the instinct peculiar
to lovers he had anticipated after the return of Madame de
Saint-Meran and the death of the marquis, that something
would occur at M. de Villefort's in connection with his
attachment for Valentine. His presentiments were realized,
as we shall see, and his uneasy forebodings had goaded him
pale and trembling to the gate under the chestnut-trees.
Valentine was ignorant of the cause of this sorrow and
anxiety, and as it was not his accustomed hour for visiting
her, she had gone to the spot simply by accident or perhaps
through sympathy. Morrel called her, and she ran to the
gate. "You here at this hour?" said she. "Yes, my poor
girl," replied Morrel; "I come to bring and to hear bad
tidings."

"This is, indeed, a house of mourning," said Valentine;
"speak, Maximilian, although the cup of sorrow seems already
full."

"Dear Valentine," said Morrel, endeavoring to conceal his
own emotion, "listen, I entreat you; what I am about to say
is very serious. When are you to be married?"

"I will tell you all," said Valentine; "from you I have
nothing to conceal. This morning the subject was introduced,
and my dear grandmother, on whom I depended as my only
support, not only declared herself favorable to it, but is
so anxious for it, that they only await the arrival of M.
d'Epinay, and the following day the contract will be
signed." A deep sigh escaped the young man, who gazed long
and mournfully at her he loved. "Alas," replied he, "it is
dreadful thus to hear my condemnation from your own lips.
The sentence is passed, and, in a few hours, will be
executed; it must be so, and I will not endeavor to prevent
it. But, since you say nothing remains but for M. d'Epinay
to arrive that the contract may be signed, and the following
day you will be his, to-morrow you will be engaged to M.
d'Epinay, for he came this morning to Paris." Valentine
uttered a cry.

"I was at the house of Monte Cristo an hour since," said
Morrel; "we were speaking, he of the sorrow your family had
experienced, and I of your grief, when a carriage rolled
into the court-yard. Never, till then, had I placed any
confidence in presentiments, but now I cannot help believing
them, Valentine. At the sound of that carriage I shuddered;
soon I heard steps on the staircase, which terrified me as
much as the footsteps of the commander did Don Juan. The
door at last opened; Albert de Morcerf entered first, and I
began to hope my fears were vain, when, after him, another
young man advanced, and the count exclaimed -- 'Ah, here is
the Baron Franz