With his head between his hands, Monsieur de Villefort sat in his easy-chair, as if an uninterested spectator. When the door opened he rose in his chair, and, looking expectantly at the two physicians who entered, said:

"Well, is the district-attorney coming?"

"He will be here soon," replied D'Avigny, to quiet the old man.

"But I have no more time," exclaimed Villefort, passionately.

"Monsieur de Villefort," said the physician earnestly, "you know that the district-attorney can only be informed in cases of the utmost importance, and—"

"And is it not an important case when a man who has himself filled the office of district-attorney for years wishes to speak to his successor before he dies?" said Villefort, sharply. "What is the name of the new district-attorney?"

"Monsieur de Flambois."

"Oh, my former assistant," muttered the sick man, with a bitter smile. "Doctor, it is a question of rehabilitation. Tell Monsieur de Flambois to hurry up."

"I will do so," said Fritz, after an interchange of looks with his father, and he immediately left the room.

The old physician also went away, and immediately afterward Morrel conducted his sister and Valentine into the private office of the doctor.

Monsieur d'Avigny with deep emotion drew the young girl, who was attired in deep mourning, to his bosom, while the tears fell on Valentine's cheeks.

"My dearly beloved child," he said, with tenderness. "Thank God that my old eyes are permitted to see you once more."

"And my father?" asked Valentine, sobbing.

"You will see him, Valentine. Remain patient for a little while longer; he wants to see the district-attorney, and, as far as I understand, it is about some former injustice which he wishes to repair. Confide in me, I shall call you when the time comes. In the meantime take some refreshment, as you must be weak from the journey."

Valentine and Julie withdrew to an apartment which had been prepared for them, and d'Avigny and Morrel remained alone.

"If I could only understand," said the old man meditatively, "how Monsieur de Villefort ever could have such a daughter."

"Perhaps Valentine's mother, Mademoiselle de St. Meran, had a noble nature."

"I hardly think so. Of course I did not know Monsieur de Villefort's first wife, but, from what I have heard of her, she was very miserly, and a fit companion for her husband. Old Madame de St. Meran, too, was not exactly a tender-hearted woman."

"But she loved Valentine dearly," Morrel remarked.

"I admit that; although this love did not prevent her from trying to force Valentine into an obnoxious marriage. Monsieur d'Epinay was of an old aristocratic family, and that was why the old lady thought he would be a good match for her granddaughter. No, they were all selfish, and Valentine can congratulate herself for not being like them."

The entrance of the servant, who announced the arrival of Monsieur de Flambois and Monsieur d'Avigny, put an end to the conversation. The old physician immediately conducted Monsieur de Flambois to the bedside of his patient, whose eyes lighted up when he recognized the district-attorney.

"Monsieur de Villefort," began the district-attorney, bowing low, "you desired to speak to me to tell me something important. Do you wish our interview to be private?"

"No," said Villefort, solemnly. "I desire Monsieur d'Avigny to remain and act as a witness."

The physician seated himself on the bed, while Monsieur de Flambois took up a position at the writing desk.

"Monsieur de Villefort, we are ready."

"Gentlemen," said the sick man, in a clear, firm voice, "thanks to me and thanks to my wife, Heloise de Villefort, my family name has become infamous and I am not surprised my father no longer wishes to bear it."

"But, Monsieur de Villefort," interrupted the official.

"Let me speak. What would you think of a man who, to save himself, condemns another in cold blood to imprisonment for life."

"I would call him a criminal," said Flambois solemnly.

"Well, I am such a criminal. In the year 1814, I condemned a young man to life imprisonment and the heavens did not fall; I rose step by step, and for twenty-five years was looked upon as an honorable official whose reputation was above suspicion, although in my own heart I knew I was a rogue. But the man I thought had rotted away in jail was alive and revenged himself upon me. The first wife who bore my name was my accomplice, the second was a poisoner. She murdered every one who stood in her way; my son and Valentine became her victims; my other son sprung from a criminal attachment. I tried to kill him by burying him alive; as a punishment for me, he was rescued to die on the gallows."

"No, Monsieur de Villefort, Benedetto's sentence was commuted to life imprisonment," said Monsieur de Flambois.

"That is worse than the gallows," stammered the sick man. "My first and my second wife, Benedetto and myself deserved to have our names looked upon with loathing, but Valentine, my poor innocent Valentine, did not deserve this shame, and on her account I speak to-day."

"I do not understand you," said the district-attorney. "Your daughter Valentine—"

"Ah, what fools!" exclaimed Villefort. "How could you imagine that Valentine was my daughter? No, gentlemen, Valentine is not a Villefort! How could an angel be a member of such a sinful race!"

"I thought as much," muttered d'Avigny to himself, while Flambois looked at his former chief as if the latter were talking Sanscrit.

"When I married Renee de St. Meran," continued Monsieur de Villefort, after a short pause, "I was a young and ambitious official. My wife was also ambitious, and we were fitted in that respect for one another. Unfortunately for us both, there was a clause in the marriage contract, by which Monsieur and Madame de St. Meran pledged themselves to give our first child on its baptism a present of three hundred thousand francs. As soon as I was in possession of such a fortune, I could go to Paris, and once in the capital, I was sure to make my way. Renee was of the same mind as myself, she yearned to come to court and play a part in the world of society; Marseilles was too small for her. When Renee became enceinte we were both overjoyed. The birth of a child would smooth our path, and we only thought of the first smile of the little being, to arrange our plans. The event so anxiously awaited by us was to take place at the beginning of May, 1816. To have you understand what followed, I must go back to April, 1815. I was sitting at work on the evening of the 4th of April, when loud screams attracted my attention. I opened the window; it was ten o'clock, and in the moonlight I observed that the street in front of our house was filled with a noisy and turbulent crowd of people. Collecting my thoughts, I blew out my lamp. I saw a man running rapidly along the street, followed by a great crowd shouting, 'Down with the Englishman.' The man ran so quickly that he distanced all his pursuers, and I already thought that he was saved, when I saw him stagger and fall. In a moment his pursuers were upon him, a loud cry was heard, and the next moment the unfortunate man was thrown into the river. Not long after all was still again. I lighted my lamp again and was about to continue my work, when I heard a slight tap at the window. I became frightened. Who could want me at this hour? Grasping a pistol, I walked cautiously into the garden, from whence proceeded cries for help. I listened, and could now hear a soft voice with a foreign accent whisper:

"'Help, my lord. For pity's sake help me.'

"I immediately thought of the cry, 'Down with the Englishman,' which I had heard before. This must be the man who had been thrown in the water. I grasped the man, who was shivering with cold and dripping with water, and led him into my library. By the light of the lamp I saw he was about thirty years old.

"'You have rescued me, sir,' he said in a soft voice, with a peculiar accent, 'but you will not find me ungrateful.'

"'Who are you, and what am I to do for you?' I asked him.

"'I was thought to be an English spy in the service of the royalists,' he said, laughing sorrowfully, 'and the excited crowd threw me into the river. Fortunately, I did not lose my senses; I dived under, swam a short distance and then gained the bank.'

"'Then you are not an Englishman?' I asked.

"'I, an Englishman?' he repeated, with his eyes sparkling with rage; 'what are you thinking of?'

"'But who then are you?' I exclaimed.

"He looked searchingly at me.

"'You are young,' he then said, 'you do not know what betrayal is; I will confide in you! Besides, you are a Frenchman and hate the English as I do. Tell me where is the Emperor Napoleon at present?'

"'In Paris.'

"'Are you sure?'

"'Positive.'

"'You love the emperor?'

"'I am his faithful servant.'

"'Thank Heaven. Would you assist me to reach Paris?'

"'Paris?' I repeated in astonishment.

"'Yes, I must reach the capital as soon as possible. I must rescue the emperor.'

"'The roads are not safe,' I hesitatingly replied, 'and if you have no passport—'

"'You are an official,' he interrupted me, 'perhaps a judge?'

"'I am what is called in England attorney for the crown.'

"'Ah, in England there are no judges,' he violently said. 'In England are only hangmen! Thank God I am in France; and my ancestors were French.'

"'And your home?'

"'Is the Orient, the land of the sun,' he said with emotion, as his eyes filled with tears. 'I am an Indian prince.'

"'That is the reason you hate England!' I suddenly exclaimed, as a light dawned on me.

"'Hate it! I curse it!' he said, in a choking voice. 'It is the home of traitors and murderers.'

"'But did you not tell me a little while ago that you were of French descent?'

"'Yes. Have you forgotten the names of those Frenchmen who fought so gloriously for India's independence? Dupleix, Labourdonnaye and Lally came with an army to India. My father belonged to Lally's detachment, and fell on the 27th of October, 1803, in the battle of Laswari. During his stay in India, he married a Mahratta at Scindia's court; two children resulted therefrom, a boy and a girl, and the son is the one you have rescued to-day.'

"'Then you are really a Frenchman?'

"'No; I call myself Mahratta; the blood of my mother betrays itself in my veins, for she was the daughter of a prince.'

"'And her name?'

"'I have almost forgotten it myself, as I was not permitted to pronounce it for such a long time. About five years ago Scindia began anew the struggle against English tyranny. We were defeated in the battle of Gwalior, and I and my sister Naya, a beautiful girl of fifteen, were taken prisoners by the English. For five years we suffered martyrdom; we were brought to England, and finally separated. About two months ago I managed to escape. I reached the coast, was taken on board a Spanish ship, and finally set foot on French ground. Paris is the place I desire to go to. Napoleon has promised us help if we assist him against the English. The whole of India will rise up and crush England, and Napoleon's throne will be secured forever.'

"The handsome youth stood before me like a prophet, and I enthusiastically exclaimed:

"'Whatever I can do to assist your plans shall be done. Tell me your name, and I will fill out your passport.'

"'I am the Rajah Siwadji Daola,' he said.

"'And your sister?' I asked; 'is she free, too?'

"'No; but she soon will be. A prince of the Mahrattas followed Naya to England; he loves her, and will soon bring her to France.'

"'To France? Have they a place to go to here?' I eagerly asked.

"'Let my sister and her husband find protection in your house,' he simply said, 'and the gods will reward you.'

"I hesitated for a moment, and then I cordially answered:

"'Let it be as you say—my house shall be open to your sister!'

"'A thousand thanks,' he joyfully cried. 'And so that you know my sister, look here.'

"He took out of his silk belt the half of a peculiarly formed bracelet, and handed it to me with the words:

"'Look at this bracelet! Whoever brings you the other half, receive in your house as a favor to me. I cannot leave the bracelet with you, but if you have a piece of wax I can make an impression which will answer the same purpose.'

"Wax was soon found, the broad gold plate, with its numerous hieroglyphics, was pressed in it, and after the impression had been secured the rajah hid the bracelet in his belt.

"'When can I get the pass?' he asked.

"'To-morrow morning. What name shall I put in?'

"'The name of my father—Jean d'Arras.'

"The rajah, upon my solicitation, threw himself on my bed and slept a few hours. As soon as the day dawned he left the house with me, enveloped in a wide mantle, and as we had no difficulty in getting the necessary passports from the prefecture, he was already that same morning on his way to Paris."

"Monsieur de Villefort," said D'Avigny, anxiously, "you are exerting yourself too much; postpone the continuation until to-morrow."

"No, no," replied Villefort, "I must speak to-day; to-morrow would be too late.

"Three months later, Renee de St. Meran became my wife, the battle of Waterloo followed, and Napoleon was deposed forever. On the 6th of May, 1816, my wife gave birth to a child—a daughter. It was very sickly, though, and my mother-in-law feared it would not live until the next day. On the night following the birth of the child I was sitting reading at my wife's bedside, when I heard my name being softly called from the direction of the garden. At first I thought I was mistaken, but the cry was repeated, and I quietly slipped out. Near the garden hedge lay a white form; the moon was shining brightly, and I saw a woman's face of extraordinary beauty. Giving vent to a low murmur of astonishment, I drew near to the figure; when I perceived the glistening eyes and the satiny dark curls, I no longer doubted but what the woman who lay before me was Naya, the sister of the Rajah Siwadji.

"'You are Monsieur de Villefort?' she said, in a gentle voice.

"'Yes, and you are Naya,' I said, to make sure.

"'I am. My husband, the Rajah Duttjah, is dead. Save my child!'

"At these words the woman opened the white mantle which covered her, and I saw a new-born babe, which was wrapped up in a silk cloth. The poor mother looked anxiously at me. I took the child in my arms and a happy smile passed over the pale face.

"'Now I can die peacefully,' she whispered; 'my husband died as we were about to leave England—I felt myself a mother—I had to live. Night and day I have wandered. Barely two hours ago my child was born; I dragged myself to the house, but my strength failed me—here—is—the—bracelet—'

"She paused suddenly—I bent over her—she was dead. From her cold hand I took the half of the gold bracelet, and ran into the house. My wife was fast asleep. I laid the child in the cradle near my little daughter, and just thinking whether I should call the nurse who slept in the next room, when I perceived that I had laid the living child next to a dead one. Our little daughter had breathed her last!

"I stood as if struck by lightning. All the proud hopes we had built on the child's birth were gone. Suddenly the strange child began to cry, and my plan was quickly made. With trembling hands I dressed the strange child—it was a girl, too—in the clothes of my own daughter, and gathering the silk cloth about the latter, I carried her to the garden and placed her in Naya's arms.

"One hour later my wife awoke, and when she asked for our child, I gave her Naya's daughter!"

"Did not Madame de Villefort ever hear of the change which had been made?" asked the district-attorney.

"Oh, yes; my wife had placed a small chain with a golden cross around our child's neck just after it was born; in my hurry I had forgotten to put this talisman on the strange child; I first denied, then confessed, everything. Instead of heaping reproaches on me, she acquiesced in the fraud. The next day my father-in-law came; Naya's daughter was baptized under the name of Valentine de Villefort, and on the bed of the child, my happy parents-in-law laid my appointment as district-attorney in Paris, and bonds to the value of three hundred thousand francs. Naya, with the dead child in her arms, was found the next day at our door. They were both buried in the potter's field. The papers Naya carried were written in the Indian language; they were given to me as a high official, and since then they, together with the wax impression and the half of the bracelet, have lain in my private portfolio which always stands near my bed."

Upon a wink from Villefort, Monsieur de Flambois opened the portfolio designated; everything was found there as he had said.

"Did you never hear again from Daola?" said d'Avigny after a pause.

"Yes; three years later the rajah wrote me from India. He had fought at Waterloo, was again a captive of the English, and only had an opportunity at the end of a year to escape. Together with the Rajah Scindia, who later on went over to England, he had again begun the struggle for independence; he is now living in the interior of Hindustan, waiting for a better opportunity. He asked me for news from Naya; I wrote him I knew nothing of her, and that ended our correspondence.

"This is my confession. Now use justice and erase from the headstone under which Naya's daughter rests the name of Valentine de Villefort."

"Suppose Valentine de Villefort is still alive?" asked D'Avigny solemnly.