Valentine took Maximilian's hand.
"Look attentively, then, at this gentleman."
The old man fixed his scrutinizing gaze with slight astonishment on Morrel.
"It is M. Maximilian Morrel," said she; "the son of that good merchant of Marseilles, whom you doubtless recollect."
"Yes," said the old man.
"He brings an irreproachable name, which Maximilian is likely to render glorious, since at thirty years of age he is a captain, an officer of the Legion of Honor."
The old man signified that he recollected him.
"Well, grandpapa," said Valentine, kneeling before him, and pointing to Maximilian, "I love him, and will be only his; were I compelled to marry another, I would destroy myself." The eyes of the paralytic expressed a multitude of tumultuous thoughts.
"You like M. Maximilian Morrel; do you not, grandpapa!" asked Valentine.
"Yes,"
"And you will protect us, who are your children, against the will of my father?"
Noirtier cast an intelligent glance at Morrel, as if to say, "Perhaps I may."
Maximilian understood him.
"Mademoiselle," said he, "you have a sacred duty to fulfill in your deceased grandmother's room; will you allow me the honor of a few minutes' conversation with M. Noirtier?"
"That is it," said the old man's eye. Then he looked anxiously at Valentine.
"Do you fear he will not understand you?"
"Yes."
"Oh! we have so often spoken of you, that he knows exactly how I talk to you." Then turning to Maximilian with an adorable smile, although shaded by sorrow, "He knows every thing I know," said she. Valentine rose, placed a chair for Morrel, requested Barrels not to admit any one, and having tenderly embraced her grandpapa, and sorrowfully taken leave of Morrel, she went away. To prove to Noirtier that he was in Valentine's confidence and knew all their secrets, Morrel took the dictionary, a pen, and some paper, and placed them all on a table where there was a light.
"But first," said Morrel, "allow me, sir, to tell you who I am, how much I love Mademoiselle Valentine, and what are my designs respecting her."
