found it impossible to repeat what had been said the last few minutes, when suddenly Madame Danglars’ hand, pressed on her arm, aroused her from her lethargy.
“What is it?” said she, starting at Madame Danglars’ touch as she would have done from an electric shock.
“It is, my dear Valentine,” said the baroness, “that you are, doubtless, suffering.”
“I?” said the young girl, passing her hand across her burning forehead.
“Yes, look at yourself in that glass; you have turned pale and then red successively, three or four times in one minute.”
“Indeed,” cried Eugénie, “you are very pale!”
“Oh, do not be alarmed; I have been so for many days.”
Artless as she was, the young girl knew that this was an opportunity to leave, and besides, Madame de Villefort came to her assistance.
“Retire, Valentine,” said she; “you are really suffering, and these ladies will excuse you; drink a glass of pure water, it will restore you.”
Valentine kissed Eugénie, bowed to Madame Danglars, who had already risen to take her leave, and went out.
“That poor child,” said Madame de Villefort when Valentine was gone, “she makes me very uneasy, and I should not be astonished if she had some serious illness.”
Meanwhile, Valentine, in a sort of excitement which she could not quite understand, had crossed Edward’s room without noticing some trick of the child, and through her own had reached the little staircase.