“My good friend,” said Valentine, “I should take you for a visionary, and should tremble for your reason, if I were always to hear you talk in a strain similar to this. Is it possible that you can see anything more than the merest chance in this meeting? Pray reflect a little. My father, who never goes out, has several times been on the point of refusing this invitation; Madame de Villefort, on the contrary, is burning with the desire of seeing this extraordinary nabob in his own house, therefore, she has with great difficulty prevailed on my father to accompany her. No, no; it is as I have said, Maximilian⁠—there is no one in the world of whom I can ask help but yourself and my grandfather, who is little better than a corpse⁠—no support to cling to but my mother in heaven!”

“I see that you are right, logically speaking,” said Maximilian; “but the gentle voice which usually has such power over me fails to convince me today.”

“I feel the same as regards yourself,” said Valentine; “and I own that, if you have no stronger proof to give me⁠—”