“Yes, madame,” replied Villefort, “it is not only projected but arranged.”
“Your intended son-in-law is named M. Franz d’Épinay?”
“Yes, madame.”
“Is he not the son of General d’Épinay who was on our side, and who was assassinated some days before the usurper returned from the Island of Elba?”
“The same.”
“Does he not dislike the idea of marrying the granddaughter of a Jacobin?”
“Our civil dissensions are now happily extinguished, mother,” said Villefort; “M. d’Épinay was quite a child when his father died, he knows very little of M. Noirtier, and will meet him, if not with pleasure, at least with indifference.”
“Is it a suitable match?”
“In every respect.”
“And the young man?”
“Is regarded with universal esteem.”
“You approve of him?”
“He is one of the most well-bred young men I know.”
During the whole of this conversation Valentine had remained silent.
“Well, sir,” said Madame de Saint-Méran, after a few minutes’ reflection, “I must hasten the marriage, for I have but a short time to live.”
“You, madame?” “You, dear mamma?” exclaimed M. de Villefort and Valentine at the same time.
“I know what I am saying,” continued the marchioness; “I must hurry you, so that, as she has no mother, she may at least have a grandmother to bless her marriage. I am all that is left to her belonging to my poor Renée, whom you have so soon forgotten, sir.”
“Ah, madame,” said Villefort, “you forget that I was obliged to give a mother to my child.”