The Count of Monte Cristo

Preserved for Maximilian

Monte Cristo assured her he was nothing more than the tenderest father and most respectful friend she could dream of. Upon hearing “Maximilian,” the blood mounted to Valentine’s cheeks, dispelling her fear. She exclaimed the name sweetly and asked if Morrel had told him everything. The count confirmed Morrel had told him her life was his, and the count had promised she would live. When Valentine asked if he was a doctor, he replied he was the best she could have at present. She questioned where he had been watching, as she had not seen him.

The Hidden Watchman

The count extended his hand toward the library, revealing he had been hidden behind that door, which led to the next house he had rented. Valentine turned away with indignant pride and exclaimed his intrusion was unparalleled, calling his protection more like an insult. The count explained during his long watch, he observed who visited her, what nourishment and beverage were served. When the latter appeared dangerous, he entered and substituted a healthful draught for the poison, causing life to circulate in her veins instead of death.

The Poisoner Revealed

Valentine exclaimed in horror at the mention of poison and death. Monte Cristo placed his finger on her lips again and confirmed he spoke of poison and death. He offered her a bottle containing red liquid, pouring a few drops into the glass and instructing her to drink and take nothing more that night. She stretched out her hand but drew back in fear. The count drank half the contents himself before presenting it to her, and she smiled as she swallowed the rest, recognizing the flavor of her nocturnal beverage that had refreshed her and eased her aching brain.

A Healthful Draught

Monte Cristo explained she had lived this way for four nights, drinking what she believed was the doctor’s draught but what he had been substituting. He described the wretched hours of torture he endured watching the deadly poison poured into her glass, trembling lest she drink it before he could throw it away. Valentine, at the height of terror, declared if he saw the poison being poured, he must have seen the person doing it. When she demanded to know who could desire her death, the count asked her to listen.

A List of Victims

Valentine raised herself in bed, drawing her embroidered cambric over her whiter-than-snow chest. The count confirmed he had seen the person. She insisted he was trying to make her believe something too dreadful—that someone would attempt to murder her in her father’s house, on her sickbed. The count reminded her she was not the first victim this hand had stricken. Had she not seen M. and Madame de Saint-Méran and Barrois all fall? Would not M. Noirtier also have fallen victim had not his three-year treatment neutralized the poison’s effects?

Noirtier’s Antidote

Valentine exclaimed in horror, asking if this explained why her grandfather had made her share all his beverages during the last month. When she confirmed they had all tasted of a slightly bitter flavor like dried orange-peel, the count declared that explained all. Her grandfather knew a poisoner lived in the house—perhaps he even suspected the person. He had been fortifying his beloved child against the fatal poison, which failed because her system was already impregnated with it. But even this would have availed little against the more deadly medium employed four days ago, which was generally fatal.

The Hour of the Murderer

Valentine asked who this assassin and murderer was. The count asked in turn whether she had ever seen anyone enter her room at night. She confirmed she had frequently seen shadows approach and disappear, though she had taken them for feverish visions—even thinking Monte Cristo’s entrance was delirium. When she again asked who desired her death, the count instructed her to listen, explaining midnight was striking, which was the hour murderers choose. The bells struck slowly and sadly, each hour striking with leaden weight upon her heart.