A MIRACLE
The Count of Monte-Cristo had indeed left Paris shortly after the first
sitting of the Benedetto case had been so strangely interrupted. In his
company was the young officer, Maximilian Morrel, who was so shocked at
the death of his beloved Valentine as not to be any longer recognizable
as the gay young officer who, with Chateau-Renaud, Beauchamp and Debray
formed the leading cavaliers of the capital. A sympathy, which he could
not account for himself, brought Morrel into a bond of friendship with
the Count of Monte-Cristo, and he told him of his love for Valentine de
Villefort and his grief at the sudden death of his idol.
But even Monte-Cristo's consolations brought no relief to the young man,
and he resolved to put an end to his life, so as to be joined at least
in death with his cherished darling.
He had already written the letter, the weapon lay on his table, when he
was disturbed by an unwelcome visit from the Count of Monte-Cristo.
"What were you going to do, Maximilian?" asked Monte-Cristo, sternly.
"The one thing which is left to an unfortunate who has been robbed of
the one most dear to him on earth," the young man replied, in a tone of
resignation.
"I understand you; he who has known Valentine as I have could readily
excuse the abominable step you were about to take."
"And do you not approve of it?" asked the young man, in a tone of
astonishment.
"That depends on circumstances; these circumstances are, however, not
yet here, much as you may wonder. I make you the following proposition:
If, at the end of a month, you do not declare that you regard this
suicide as a crime against yourself and all those dear to you, then I
will give you a powder which will put an end to your life without
leaving such ugly traces as that pistol on your desk."
"If you can wake the dead, then you can help me. But this miraculous
power I do not believe even you have. Nevertheless, I have never refused
you a favor, and accede to your request, on condition that you promise
not to make any new attempts to prevent me from carrying out my design."
"Accepted," said the count, as he stretched out his hand affectionately
toward the young man, who grasped it without hesitation.
"To-day a month," he continued, "I shall await you on the island of
Monte-Cristo."
With these words Monte-Cristo left his friend.
Maximilian remained true to his word. Five days before the expiration of
the fateful month he went from Paris to Marseilles and embarked from
there on one of the yachts belonging to the count for the little island
of Monte-Cristo, which he reached on the appointed day. Ali, the black
servant of the count, met him on the wharf and conducted him to the
count's apartments.
"Here I am, count, to receive the powder from your hands which will
realize my hope to meet Valentine in another world."
"Nothing can induce you to give up your design then?" asked
Monte-Cristo.
"Nothing, not even you," answered Morrel, firmly.
"Well, then, let it be so," said Monte-Cristo sternly, as he took a
greenish, strongly smelling pastil from a box cut from an opal.
"It is hashish. Death is painless and recalls to the person taking it
the most beautiful memories of his life."
Maximilian embraced his friend and swallowed the pastil.
The effect was wonderful. A delightful languor took possession of
Maximilian. All the scenes of his childhood came back to him, only the
form of his darling was missing. Suddenly the back part of the room
appeared to open and a female form strode toward him with arms
outstretched; it was the purified form of his beloved.
"Oh, how sweet is such a death," whispered Maximilian.
The figure strode nearer to him, embraced him and kissed his burning
forehead.
"My poor lover," murmured a well-known voice.
"Valentine," exclaimed Maximilian, "Valentine, is it possible! I am not
dreaming, you are alive! I clasp you in my arms, only to die myself!"
"I am alive, my dear friend, and bring you new life; it is no dream, we
are at the realization of our hopes, we are united on earth forever."
Gradually Maximilian became conscious. He lay in the arms of his
beloved Valentine and his faithful friend Monte-Cristo stood near him.
"Valentine and Maximilian," said the count solemnly, "my dear friends,
from now on nothing shall separate you; I give you life back again, I
now join your hands in the bonds which nothing can separate but the
grave! May God bless you both as I do."
Overpowered with emotion the newly united couple sank at the feet of
this curious man to thank him from the depths of their hearts.
Monte-Cristo lifted Valentine tenderly from the ground and turning to
her said:
"I shall leave you alone now, and go back to my apartments, where my
wife, the Countess of Monte-Cristo, awaits me."
As soon as the count had gone the two lovers embraced each other again.
Then the young man led the young girl to a divan, and asked her to tell
him the wonderful story of her rescue and her return from the grave.
"I was," related Valentine, "as you know, very ill; but yet I hoped to
become convalescent again! One night, as I lay on my bed of sickness, a
door which I had never before perceived was opened. A man entered and
approached my bed; I was just about to scream when I perceived that the
spectre was none other than the Count of Monte-Cristo, who made signs to
me to keep silent. He sat beside me and told me I was being gradually
poisoned by my step-mother, and that she had already poisoned my
grandparents Barrois in the same manner. He had himself given me an
antidote. But the means he had were not sufficient to shield me from
all danger, and he begged me to drink a potion, which would put me in a
trance for the space of three days. I took the potion which the count
gave me; I lost my senses. How long I lay thus I do not know, but when I
woke I found myself in a coffin in a church, and the count standing
beside me. A new and powerful potion restored me to my former vitality.
The count brought me to his house, where I found everything necessary to
a journey. After I had rested for a few days, I rode to Marseilles with
the count, and from there to this lonely island, where I have found you,
my dear Maximilian."
A new embrace ended this conversation, and they both left the apartment
to go in search of the count, to thank him again for his trouble.
They went to the grotto and asked Jacopo, who had brought Maximilian to
the island, where the count was.
"I have a letter for both of you from my master."
"Where is the Count of Monte-Cristo?" they both asked simultaneously.
"He has just left the island with his wife and his servant, Ali. You can
still see the ship over there," replied Jacopo, pointing to a small boat
on which could be described three persons. It was the count, Haydee, and
Ali. Maximilian quickly opened the letter, which read as follows:
"MY DEAR MAXIMILIAN--A ship is lying at anchor for you. Jacopo will
bring you to Livorno, where Monsieur Noirtier awaits his
grandchild, whom he wishes to bless before you lead her to the
altar. Everything you find in this grotto and my house in Paris are
the wedding presents of a faithful friend, whom you will never see
again. My last words are: Waiting and hoping. May you both live
happy and think now and then of your devoted friend,
"EDMOND DANTES, Count of Monte-Cristo."
Meanwhile the count's vessel departed further and further from the
island; a fresh breeze filled the sail and it disappeared from view.
Valentine and Maximilian waved a cordial farewell to the travellers with
their hands. Then the ship vanished from the horizon.