While Albert was lashing the front of his carriage in the same manner that he had the newspapers which were the innocent agents of his discomfiture, as he was crossing the barrier he perceived Morrel, who was walking with a quick step and a bright eye. He was passing the Chinese Baths, and appeared to have come from the direction of the Porte Saint-Martin, and to be going towards the Madeleine.
“Ah,” said Morcerf, “there goes a happy man!” And it so happened Albert was not mistaken in his opinion.
Chapter 80. The Accusation
M. d’Avrigny soon restored the magistrate to consciousness, who had looked like a second corpse in that chamber of death.
“Oh, death is in my house!” cried Villefort.
“Say, rather, crime!” replied the doctor.
“M. d’Avrigny,” cried Villefort, “I cannot tell you all I feel at this moment,—terror, grief, madness.”
“Yes,” said M. d’Avrigny, with an imposing calmness, “but I think it is now time to act. I think it is time to stop this torrent of mortality. I can no longer bear to be in possession of these secrets without the hope of seeing the victims and society generally revenged.”
Villefort cast a gloomy look around him. “In my house,” murmured he, “in my house!”
“Come, magistrate,” said M. d’Avrigny, “show yourself a man; as an interpreter of the law, do honor to your profession by sacrificing your selfish interests to it.”
“You make me shudder, doctor. Do you talk of a sacrifice?”
“I do.”
“Do you then suspect anyone?”