“You are right,” said Morrel, calmly.
“In what a tone you speak!” cried Valentine.
“I speak as one who admires you, mademoiselle.”
“Mademoiselle,” cried Valentine; “mademoiselle! Oh, selfish man! he sees me in despair, and pretends he cannot understand me!”
“You mistake—I understand you perfectly. You will not oppose M. Villefort, you will not displease the marchioness, and tomorrow you will sign the contract which will bind you to your husband.”
“But, mon Dieu! tell me, how can I do otherwise?”
“Do not appeal to me, mademoiselle; I shall be a bad judge in such a case; my selfishness will blind me,” replied Morrel, whose low voice and clenched hands announced his growing desperation.
“What would you have proposed, Maximilian, had you found me willing to accede?”
“It