At these words there appeared in Noirtier’s eye an expression of such deep meaning that the young girl thought she could read these words there: “You are mistaken; I can still do much for you.”
“Do you think you can help me, dear grandpapa?” said Valentine.
“Yes.” Noirtier raised his eyes, it was the sign agreed on between him and Valentine when he wanted anything.
“What is it you want, dear grandpapa?” said Valentine, and she endeavored to recall to mind all the things which he would be likely to need; and as the ideas presented themselves to her mind, she repeated them aloud, then,—finding that all her efforts elicited nothing but a constant “No,”—she said, “Come, since this plan does not answer, I will have recourse to another.”
She then recited all the letters of the alphabet from A down to N. When she arrived at that letter the paralytic made her understand that she had spoken the initial letter of the thing he wanted.
“Ah,” said Valentine, “the thing you desire begins with the letter N; it is with N that we have to do, then. Well, let me see, what can you want that begins with N? Na—Ne—Ni—No——”
“Yes, yes, yes,” said the old man’s eye.
“Ah, it is No, then?”
“Yes.”
Valentine fetched a dictionary, which she placed on a desk before Noirtier; she opened it, and, seeing that the old man’s eye was thoroughly fixed on its pages, she ran her finger quickly up and down the columns. During the six years which had passed since Noirtier first fell into this sad state, Valentine’s powers of invention had been too often put to the test not to render her expert in devising expedients for gaining a knowledge of his wishes, and the constant practice had so perfected her in the art that she guessed the old man’s meaning as quickly as if he himself had been able to seek for what he wanted. At the word Notary, Noirtier made a sign to her to stop.