loved her, during two years I have seen written in her heart by God's own hand, as in a book, all the virtues of a daughter and wife. Count, to possess Valentine would have been a happiness too infinite, too ecstatic, too complete, too divine for this world, since it has been denied me, I can only say, without Valentine the earth is a scene of despair and desolation."
"I have told you to hope," said the count.
"Then, have a care, I repeat, for you seek to persuade me, and if you succeed, I should lose my reason, for I should hope that I could again behold Valentine."
The count smiled.
"My friend, my father," said Morrel, with excitement, "have a care, I again repeat, for the power you wield over me alarms me. Weigh your words before you speak, for my eyes have already become brighter, and my heart rebounds; be cautious, or you will make me believe in supernatural agencies. I must obey you, so in mercy be cautious."
"Hope, my friend," repeated the count.
"Ah," said Morrel, falling from the height of excitement to the abyss of despair—"ah, you are playing with me, like those good or, rather selfish, mothers who soothe their children with honeyed words, because their screams annoy them. No, my friend, I was wrong to caution you; do not fear, I will bury my grief so deep in my heart, I will disguise it so, that you shall not even care to sympathize with me. Adieu, my friend, adieu!"
"On the contrary," said the count, "after this time you must live with me—you must not leave me, and in a week we shall have left France behind us."
"And you still bid me hope?"
"I tell you to hope, because I have a method of curing you."
"Count, you render me sadder than before, if it be possible. You think that the result of this blow has been to produce an ordinary grief, and you would cure it by an ordinary remedy—change of scene." And Morrel dropped his head with disdainful incredulity.
"What can I say more?" asked Monte-Cristo. "I have confidence in the remedy I propose, and only ask you to permit me to assure you of its efficacy."
"Count, you prolong my agony."
"Then," said the count, "your feeble spirit will not even grant me the trial I request? Come! do you know of what the Count of Monte-Cristo is capable? do you know that he holds terrestrial beings under his control? nay, that he can almost work a miracle! Well, wait for the miracle I hope to accomplish, or———"
