"I tell you to hope. Do you understand?" Monte Cristo's voice rang with authority. "Remember that I've never told a lie and am never wrong. It's noon, Maximilian. Thank heaven you came at midday rather than tonight or tomorrow morning. Listen carefully, Morrel, it's noon. If Valentine isn't dead now, she won't die."
"How is that possible?" Morrel cried. "I left her dying!"
Monte Cristo pressed his hands to his forehead. What was happening in that brain loaded with terrible secrets? What was the angel of light or the angel of darkness saying to that mind, simultaneously implacable and generous? Only God knew.
Monte Cristo raised his head. This time he was calm as a child waking from sleep.
"Maximilian," he said, "go home. I order you not to move, attempt nothing, let no thought show on your face. I'll send you news. Go."
"Count, you overwhelm me with your calmness. Do you have power over death? Are you superhuman? Are you an angel?"
