CHAPTER CXIII
THE HOUSE IN THE ALLÉES DE MEILLAN
EN leagues were passed without a single word being pronounced. Morrel was dreaming, and Monte-Cristo was looking at the dreamer.
"Morrel," said the count to him at length, "do you repent having followed me?"
"No, count; but to leave Paris———"
"If I thought happiness might await you in Paris, Morrel, I would have left you there."
"Valentine reposes within the walls of Paris, and to leave Paris is like losing her a second time."
"Maximilian," said the count, "the friends that we have lost do not repose in the bosom of the earth, but are buried deep in our hearts; and it has been thus ordained, that we may always be accompanied by them. I have two friends, who, in this way, never depart from me; the one who gave me being, and the other who conferred knowledge and intelligence on me. Their spirits live in me. I consult them when doubtful, and if ever I do any good, it is to their good counsels that I am indebted. Listen to the voice of your heart, Morrel, and ask it whether you ought to preserve this melancholy exterior."
"My friend," said Maximilian, "the voice of my heart is very sad, and promises only sorrow."
"It is ever thus that weakened minds see everything as through a black veil; the soul forms its own horizons; your soul is darkened and consequently the sky of the future appears stormy."
"That may possibly be true," said Maximilian. And he again subsided into his thoughtful mood.
The journey was performed with that marvelous rapidity which was one of the count's sources of power; towns fled from them like shadows
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