quarter to ten; but soon the same clock he had already heard strike two or three times rectified the error by striking half-past nine.
This was already half an hour past the time Valentine had fixed. She had fixed nine o'clock, earlier rather than later. It was a terrible moment for the young man, on whose heart every second smote like the stroke of a hammer. The slightest rustling of the foliage, the least whistling of the wind, attracted his attention and drew the perspiration on his brow; then he tremblingly fixed his ladder, and, not to lose a moment, placed his foot on the first step. Amidst all these alternations of hope and fear, the clock in the church struck ten. "It is impossible," said Maximilian, "that the signing of a contract should occupy so long a time without unexpected interruptions. I have weighed all the chances, calculated the time required for all the forms; something must have happened."
And then ho walked rapidly to and fro, and pressed his burning forehead against the fence. Had Valentine fainted! or had she been discovered and stopped in her flight? These were the only preventives which appeared possible to the young man.
The idea that her strength had failed her in attempting to escape, and that she had fainted in one of the paths, was the obstacle most impressed upon his mind. "In that case," said he, "I should lose her, and by my own fault." He dwelt on this thought one moment, then it appeared reality, lie even thought lie could perceive something on the ground at a distance; he ventured to call, and it seemed to him that the wind wafted back an almost inarticulate sigh.
At last the half-hour struck. It was impossible to wait longer; his temples throbbed, his eyes were growing dim; he passed one leg over the wall, and leaped down on the other side. He was on Villefort's premises―had arrived there by sealing the wall. What might be the consequences? However, he had not ventured thus far to draw back. He followed a short distance close under the wall, then crossed a path, and entered a clump of trees. In a moment he had passed through them, and could see the house distinctly.
Then Morrel was convinced of one thing, which he had already inferred from glimpses between the trees; instead of lights at every window, as is customary on days of ceremony, he saw only a gray mass, which was veiled also by a cloud, which at that moment obscured the moon's feeble light. A light moved rapidly from time to time past three windows of the first floor. These three windows were in Madame de Saint-Méran's room. Another remained motionless behind some red curtains which were in Madame de Villefort's bedroom. Morrel guessed all this. So many times, in order to follow Valentine in thought at
