Dr. D'Avigny sat in his private office and studied the sick-list of his asylum. A servant entered, and announced a young man who desired to speak with him.

"You know, Jean, that I do not like to receive visitors so late at night," said the physician.

"The gentleman gave me his card and told me you would receive him."

The doctor threw a glance at the card. No sooner had he read the name, Maximilian Morrel, than he hurriedly rose and said:

"Bring the gentleman in at once."

Dr. D'Avigny had only seen young Morrel once—at the time Valentine de Villefort sank apparently lifeless to the ground. As Maximilian entered, both men remembered the sorrowful circumstances under which they had met before, and, deeply moved, they shook each other's hand.

"Doctor," said Maximilian in a solemn voice, "I do not come to the physician but to the friend of the Villefort family."

D'Avigny bowed and Morrel continued:

"Can you tell me how Monsieur de Villefort is getting on?"

"His condition is hopeless," said the doctor sorrowfully; "as his attendant just informed me, he is again in possession of his senses, but I fear it is the last glimmering before the final extinguishment. He begged me to send for the district-attorney, as he wished to make an important communication to him, and as I hesitated he hurriedly said:

"'D'Avigny, I have no time to lose; Death is already sitting on my tongue.'"

"Then we must be quick," murmured Maximilian to himself, and then speaking aloud he said: "Doctor, would a great excitement injure your patient?"

"That depends upon the nature of the excitement," answered D'Avigny. "There can hardly be any more joys for Villefort, and troubles I would keep aloof from him."

"It is a question of a great joy, which, however, is not free from certain anxieties."

"You are speaking in riddles, Monsieur Morrel."

"Then let me unravel these riddles to you. Valentine de Villefort lives."

The old physician swayed from side to side and would have fallen to the ground had not Morrel caught him in his arms. Hot tears rolled over D'Avigny's cheeks, and sobbing he asked:

"Is it no dream? Does Valentine live?"

"She lives, and yearns to shake her old friend's hand," replied Morrel.

He then narrated to the astonished physician the extraordinary circumstance of Valentine's rescue from death. He told the dangers Monte-Cristo had undergone for her; how he had made the poisoned goblet of Madame de Villefort harmless, and how he had rescued him, too, from a suicide's death.

"And who is this Count of Monte-Cristo?" asked D'Avigny when Maximilian had ended.

"Doctor," said Morrel solemnly, "here my story ends. Who and what the Count of Monte-Cristo is I am not at liberty to tell. He has a mission to fulfil, rewards here and punishes there, and I myself have been at times moved to believe him a divine person. There is a mystery surrounding him, which he alone can clear up; but this I know, he is a noble man."

"Where is Valentine now?" asked D'Avigny after a short pause.

"Since the fall of the house of Villefort, Valentine has lived with her grandfather, Monsieur Noirtier, on his estate near Marseilles."

"That is the reason, then, why Monsieur Noirtier disappeared so suddenly from Paris?" said D'Avigny.

"Yes, the Count of Monte-Cristo informed the old man that Valentine lived, and was in need of his protection. Monsieur Noirtier immediately arranged his affairs, and up to five days ago they were both living quietly at Oliolles, near Marseilles."

"And since then?" asked the physician, uneasily.

"About five days ago Valentine received this note. Please read it and tell me what you think of it."

Morrel handed the following letter to the doctor:

"Mademoiselle Valentine—In Paris, in the house of Dr. D'Avigny, a dying man awaits your consolation. If you wish to see your father alive, hurry to him.

"M. C."

"The Count of Monte-Cristo must have written this note," said D'Avigny. "The initials M. C. prove it."

"We thought so, too," said Maximilian.

"Do you know where the count is now?"

"No."

"Where could he have found out that Monsieur de Villefort is dying? I myself have only known it since two days," said D'Avigny, meditatively.

"Oh, the count sometimes appears to be endowed with miraculous powers!" exclaimed Morrel, enthusiastically. "Valentine immediately travelled here under my protection. I—"

At this moment the door opened, and a young man about twenty-five years of age, with a fine open face, entered the room. Monsieur d'Avigny took pride in introducing him to Maximilian as his son Fritz.

"Papa," he said to the old gentleman, "Monsieur de Villefort is sinking rapidly."

"You have come at the right time," said D'Avigny, turning toward Maximilian; "where is Valentine?"

"At the home of my sister Madame d'Herbault."

"Then tell the two ladies, please, to come here at once," said the old gentleman. "Valentine can be at hand to come to her father when I call."

Morrel went away, and the father and son went to Monsieur de Villefort.