“In the name of heaven, madame,” said Villefort, “where is the doctor? He was with you just now. You see this is a fit of apoplexy, and he might be saved if he could but be bled!”
“Has he eaten anything lately?” asked Madame de Villefort, eluding her husband’s question.
“Madame,” replied Valentine, “he has not even breakfasted. He has been running very fast on an errand with which my grandfather charged him, and when he returned, took nothing but a glass of lemonade.”
“Ah,” said Madame de Villefort, “why did he not take wine? Lemonade was a very bad thing for him.”
“Grandpapa’s bottle of lemonade was standing just by his side; poor Barrois was very thirsty, and was thankful to drink anything he could find.”
Madame de Villefort started. Noirtier looked at her with a glance of the most profound scrutiny.
“He has such a short neck,” said she.
“Madame,” said Villefort, “I ask where is M. d’Avrigny? In God’s name answer me!”
“He is with Edward, who is not quite well,” replied Madame de Villefort, no longer being able to avoid answering.
Villefort rushed upstairs to fetch him.
“Take this,” said Madame de Villefort, giving her smelling-bottle to Valentine. “They will, no doubt, bleed him; therefore I will retire, for I cannot endure the sight of blood;” and she followed her husband upstairs. Morrel now emerged from his hiding-place, where he had remained quite unperceived, so great had been the general confusion.