But the easy-chair of the old man was heard rolling along the floor, and he soon made his appearance in the room. Noirtier acknowledged by a look of extreme kindness and benevolence the thanks which Morrel lavished on him for his timely intervention on behalf of Valentine and himself—an intervention which had saved them from despair. Morrel then cast on the invalid an interrogative look as to the new favor which he designed to bestow on him. Valentine was sitting at a little distance from them, timidly awaiting the moment when she should be obliged to speak. Noirtier fixed his eyes on her.
“Am I to say what you told me?” asked Valentine. Noirtier made a sign that she was to do so.
“Monsieur Morrel,” said Valentine to the young man, who was regarding her with the most intense interest, “my grandfather, M. Noirtier, had a thousand things to say, which he told me three days ago; and now, he has sent for you, that I may repeat them to you. I will repeat them, then; and since he has chosen me as his interpreter, I will be faithful to the trust, and will not alter a word of his intentions.”
“Oh, I am listening with the greatest impatience,” replied the young man; “speak, I beg of you.”
Valentine cast down her eyes; this was a good omen for Morrel, for he knew that nothing but happiness could have the power of thus overcoming Valentine.
“My grandfather intends leaving this house,” said she, “and Barrois is looking out for suitable apartments for him in another.”
“But you, Mademoiselle de Villefort—you, who are necessary to M. Noirtier’s happiness—”
“I?” interrupted Valentine; “I shall not leave my grandfather—that is an understood thing between us. My apartment will be close to his. Now,