And he dragged Monte-Cristo up the stairs; who, ignorant of what had happened, followed him in astonishment, presaging some new catastrophe.
"See, Edmond Dantès!" he said, pointing to the bodies of his wife and child. "See! look, are you well avenged?"
Moute-Cristo became pale at this horrible sight; he felt he had passed beyond the bounds of vengeance, and that he could no longer say, "God is for and with me." With an expression of indescribable anguish he threw himself upon the body of the child, reopened its eyes, felt its pulse, and then rushed with him into Valentine's room, of which he double-locked the door.
"My child!" cried Villefort, "he carries away the body of my child! Oh! curses, woe, death to you!"
He tried to follow Monte-Cristo; but, as though in a dream, he was transfixed to the spot; his eyes glared as though they were starting through the sockets; he griped the flesh on his chest, until his nails were stained with blood; the veins of his temple swelled and boiled as though they would burst their narrow boundary, and deluge his brain with living fire. This lasted several minutes, until the frightful overturn of reason was accomplished; then, uttering a loud cry, followed by a burst of laughter, he rushed down the stairs.
A quarter of an hour afterward, the door of Valentine's room opened, and Monte-Cristo reappeared. Pale, with a dull eye and heavy heart, all the noble features of that face, usually so calm and serene, appeared overturned by grief. In his arms he held the child, whom no skill had been able to recall to life. Bending on one knee, he placed it reverently by the side of its mother, with its head upon her breast. Then rising, he went out, and meeting a servant on the stairs, he asked:
"Where is M. de Villefort?"
The servant, instead of answering, pointed to the garden. Monte-Cristo ran down the steps, and, advancing toward the spot designated, beheld Villefort, encircled by his servants, with a spade in his hand, and digging the earth with fury.
"It is not here!" he cried. "It is not here!"
And then he moved further on, and recommenced digging. Monte-Cristo approached him, and said, in a low voice, with an expression almost humble:
"Sir, you have indeed lost a son; but———"
Villefort interrupted him; he had neither listened nor heard.
"Oh, I will find it!" he cried; "you may pretend he is not here, but I will find him, though I dig forever!"
