"Have mercy on my child, sir!" murmured Villefort.
"You see it is yourself who have first named her—you, her father."
"Have pity on Valentine! Listen! it is impossible. I would as willingly accuse myself! Valentine, whose heart is pure as a diamond, as innocent as a lily!"
"No pity, M. le Procureur du Roi; the crime is flagrant. Mademoiselle herself packed all the medicines which were sent to M. de Saint-Méran, and M. de Saint-Méran is dead. Mademoiselle de Villefort prepared all the cooling draughts which Madame de Saint-Méran took, and Madame de Saint-Méran is dead. Mademoiselle de Villefort took from the hands of Barrois, who was sent out, the lemonade which M. Noirtier has every morning, and he has escaped only by a miracle. Mademoiselle de Villefort is the culprit! She is the poisoner! M. le Procureur du Roi, I denounce Mademoiselle de Villefort; do your duty."
"Doctor, I resist no longer; I can no longer defend myself; I believe you; but, for pity's sake, spare my life, my honor!"
"M. de Villefort," replied the doctor, with increased vehemence, "there are occasions when I dispense with all foolish human circumspection. If your daughter had committed only one crime, and I saw her meditating another, I would say, 'Warn her, punish her, let her pass the remainder of her life in some cloister, in some convent, weeping and praying.' If she had committed two crimes, I would say, 'Here, M. de Villefort, is a poison that the poisoner is not acquainted with, one that has no known antidote, quick as thought, rapid as lightning, mortal as the thunderbolt; give her that poison, recommending her soul to God, and save your honor and your life, for it is yours she aims at; and I can picture her approaching your pillow with her hypocritical smiles and her sweet exhortations. Woe to you, M. de Villefort, if you do not strike first! This is what I would say had she only killed two persons; but she has seen three deaths,—has contemplated three murdered persons,—has knelt by three corpses! To the scaffold with the poisoner!—to the scaffold! Do you talk of your honor? Do what I tell you, and immortality awaits you!"
Villefort fell on his knees.
"Listen," said he; "I have not the strength of mind you have, or rather that which you would not have, if instead of my daughter Valentine your daughter Madeleine were concerned." The doctor turned pale. "Doctor, every son of woman is born to suffer and to die; I am content to suffer and to await death."
"Beware," said d'Avrigny; "it may come slowly; you will see it
