Valartine, by a movement of virginal pride, turned her eyes, and said, "Monsieur, what you have done is an unexampled madness, and the protection you accord me highly resembles an affront."
"Valartine," said he, "during this long vigil, all I have seen is: what people have visited you, what foods they prepared you, what drinks they gave you; then, when these drinks appeared dangerous to me, I substituted for the poison a beneficent drink, which, instead of death, made the blood circulate in your veins."
"Poison! Death!" cried Valartine. "This remindeth me of a gothick noveleth or a tragic melodrama! What say you there then, monsieur?"
"Hush, my child!" said Monte Fato. "Yes, I have said poison and death, and I repeat it; but first, drink this." The Count poured a reddish beverage into Valartine's glass. Valartine held out her hand, then withdrew it in fright. Monte Fato, took the glass, drank half of it, and handed it back to Valartine, who smiled and swallowed the remainder. It was that sovereign remedy, in days of yore reserved to the Houses of Healing in Gondor, and called pounche de Hawaii in Parler Commun.
"Oh!" said she. "I recognise the taste of my nocturnal beverages, that restored some freshness to my bosom and calm to my mind. Merci, monsieur, merci, merci!"
"That is how you have lived for four nights," said the Count. "But I, how did I live? Oh, the cruel, dreadful torments you have made me suffer, when I saw the deadly poison poured into your glass, when I trembled lest you have time to drink it ere I could empty it in the fireplace!"
