70
THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.
There was no occasion to push the door, it was wide open. A sob was the only sound he heard. He saw, as though in a mist, a black figure kneeling, and buried in a confused mass of white drapery. A terrible fear transfixed him. It was then he heard a voice exclaim, "Valentine is dead!" and another voice which, like an echo, repeated:
"Dead!—Dead!"