CHAPTER CIV
DANGLARS' SIGNATURE
HE next morning rose sad and cloudy. During the night the undertakers had executed their melancholy office, and folded the corpse in the winding-sheet which enwraps the dead, and which, whatever may be said about the equality of death, is at least a last proof of the luxury they loved in life. This winding-sheet was nothing more than a beautiful piece of cambric, which the young girl had bought a fortnight before.
During the evening two men, engaged for the purpose, had carried Noirtier from Valentine's room into his own, and, contrary to all expectation, there was no difficulty in withdrawing him from his child. The Abbé Busoni had watched till daylight, and then left without calling any one. d'Avrigny returned about eight o'clock in the morning; he met Villefort on his way to Noirtier's room, and accompanied him to see how the old man had slept. They found him in the large arm-chair, which served him for a bed, enjoying a calm, nay, almost a smiling sleep. They both stood in amazement at the door.
"See," said d'Avrigny to Villefort, "nature knows how to alleviate the deepest sorrow. No one can say M. Noirtier did not love his child, and yet he sleeps."
"Yes, you are right," replied Villefort, surprised: "he sleeps, indeed! And this is the more strange, since the least contradiction keeps him awake all night."
"Grief has stunned him," replied d'Avrigny; and they both returned thoughtfully to the study of the procureur du roi.
"See, I have not slept," said Villefort, showing his undisturbed bed; Grief does not stun me. I have not been in bed for two nights; but then look at my desk; see what I have written during these two days and nights. I have filled those papers, and have made out the accusa-
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