The Count of Monte Cristo

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.

Feigning Sleep

Valentine seized the count’s hand, saying she thought she heard a noise and begging him to leave. He replied farewell for the present, walking on tiptoe toward the library door with a sad, paternal smile that filled her heart with gratitude. Before closing the door, he turned and issued a fearful injunction: not a movement, not a word, to let them think she slept, or perhaps she might be killed before he could help her. With this warning, the count disappeared through the door, which noiselessly closed after him.