The next morning she found her grandmother in bed; the fever had not abated, on the contrary her eyes glistened and she appeared to be suffering from violent nervous irritability.
“Oh, dear grandmamma, are you worse?” exclaimed Valentine, perceiving all these signs of agitation.
“No, my child, no,” said Madame de Saint-Méran; “but I was impatiently waiting for your arrival, that I might send for your father.”
“My father?” inquired Valentine, uneasily.
“Yes, I wish to speak to him.”
Valentine durst not oppose her grandmother’s wish, the cause of which she did not know, and an instant afterwards Villefort entered.
“Sir,” said Madame de Saint-Méran, without using any circumlocution, and as if fearing she had no time to lose, “you wrote to me concerning the marriage of this child?”
“Yes, madame,” replied Villefort, “it is not only projected but arranged.”
“Your intended son-in-law is named M. Franz d’Épinay?”
“Yes, madame.”
“Is he not the son of General d’Épinay who was on our side, and who was assassinated some days before the usurper returned from the Island of Elba?”
“The same.”
“Does he not dislike the idea of marrying the granddaughter of a Jacobin?”