Valentine’s eyes widened. "A friend? Maximilian, who? I’m scared to say yes."
"Have you ever met someone and felt like you’ve known them forever?" Maximilian asked. "Like you must have been friends in another life or something? Where you feel this instant, inexplicable connection?"
"That’s how I felt when I met this man."
"’This man?’ You’re being cryptic."
"I’ve only known him for about eight or ten days."
"And you’re calling someone you’ve known for barely over a week a friend? Maximilian, I thought friendship meant more to you than that."
"I know how it sounds, but I can’t help how I feel. It’s man is meant to be part of my future. Sometimes I think he can see what’s coming and even guide events to turn out the way he wants."
"So he’s psychic?" Valentine said skeptically.
"Sometimes it feels that way. He has this uncanny ability to predict good things."
"Well, let me meet this prophet," Valentine said. "Maybe he can tell me if I’ll ever be loved enough to make up for all this suffering."
"You already know him."
"He’s the one who saved your stepmother and her son."
"The Count of Monte Cristo?"
"Oh no," Valentine said, her face falling. "He’s way too close to Madame de Villefort to ever be my friend."
"What? Valentine, you must be wrong."
"I’m not. He has incredible influence over our entire household. My stepmother treats him like he’s the wisest person alive. My father says he’s never heard such brilliant ideas so perfectly expressed. Even little Edward, who’s usually terrified of the Count’s dark eyes, runs to greet him because he always brings presents. The Count of Monte Cristo has this mysterious, almost supernatural power over everyone in my family."
"If that’s true, you must feel his influence too, or you will soon. Think about it, he met Albert de Morcerf in Italy and rescued him from bandits. He introduced himself to Madame Danglars and gave her a royal gift. Your stepmother and brother happened to pass by his house just in time for his servant to save them. This man clearly has the power to shape events. I’ve never seen someone combine such simple tastes with such magnificence. His smile is so warm when he looks at me that I forget it could ever be cold to others. Valentine, tell me, has he ever smiled at you like that? If he has, I promise you’ll be happy."
"Me?" Valentine shook her head. "He never even looks at me. If anything, he avoids me when I’m around. He’s not generous, and he doesn’t have the supernatural perception you think he does. If he did, he’d see how unhappy I am. If he were truly kind, he’d use his influence to help me. You say he’s like the sun? Well, he’s never warmed my heart with his light. You say he loves you, but how do you know? Everyone respects a military officer with a fierce mustache and a sword. But they think they can crush a sad, lonely girl without consequences."
"Valentine, I swear you’re wrong about him."
"If he wanted to gain power in our house, he’d at least pretend to be nice to me. But no, he saw I was unhappy and figured I was useless to him, so he ignored me. Who knows? Maybe he’ll even persecute me to please Madame de Villefort and my father. I’m sorry," she added, seeing the hurt on Maximilian’s face. "I shouldn’t have said all that. I didn’t even realize I felt that way until now. I won’t deny his influence exists, but for me, it’s been harmful, not helpful."
"Fine," Maximilian sighed. "I won’t make him a confidant."
"I’m sorry I hurt you," Valentine said softly. "I truly am. But I’m not completely closed-minded. Tell me, what has the Count done for you?"
"That’s hard to answer, because he hasn’t done anything obvious. But as I told you, I feel this instinctive connection to him. It’s like asking what the sun has done for me, it warms me, gives me light to see you. That’s all. Or like asking what a beautiful fragrance has done, it simply delights my senses. My friendship with him is as mysterious as his for me. Something tells me there’s more than coincidence here. Everything he does, even his smallest actions, seems connected to my life somehow. I know this sounds crazy, but ever since I met him, I’ve felt like all my good fortune comes from him.
"For example: he invited me to dinner this Saturday. Simple enough, right? But then I learned that your mother and Monsieur de Villefort are also attending. I’ll meet them there, and who knows what opportunities might come from that? You might think it’s just a coincidence, but I sense a hidden purpose in it. I believe this extraordinary man, who seems to understand everyone’s motives, deliberately arranged for me to meet your parents. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows about our secret relationship."
"Maximilian, you sound like you’re losing touch with reality," Valentine said gently. "How can you see anything but coincidence in this? My father hardly ever goes out and almost refused the invitation. Madame de Villefort, on the other hand, is dying to see this mysterious Count in his own home, so she convinced my father to come. No, there’s no conspiracy here. You and my grandfather are the only ones who can help me, and he’s barely alive."
"Logically, you’re right," Maximilian admitted. "But my instincts tell me something different."
"I feel the same confusion," Valentine said. "And honestly, if you don’t have better proof-"
"I have one more thing, but you’ll think it’s even more ridiculous."
"Great," Valentine said with a small smile.
"Still, it convinces me. Ten years of military service taught me to trust sudden impulses. Several times, something told me to move left or right at just the right moment, and a bullet killed the soldier next to me while leaving me unharmed."
"Dear Maximilian, why not credit my constant prayers for your safety? When you’re away, I pray only for you."
"Yes, but that doesn’t explain the times before we met."
"You’re impossible. Fine, let me hear this second ridiculous proof."
"Look through the gate. See that beautiful horse I rode here?"
"Oh, he’s gorgeous! Why didn’t you bring him closer so I could pet him?"
"He’s very valuable. You know I don’t have much money, I’m what you’d call middle-class at best. I saw this horse at a dealer’s and fell in love. I named him Medea in my head. The price was forty-five hundred francs, way beyond my budget. I left heartbroken because the horse had been so affectionate, nuzzling me and prancing beautifully when I rode him.
"That evening, some friends visited, de Château-Renaud, Debray, and a few others you don’t know. They suggested playing cards. I normally don’t gamble since I can’t afford to lose and I’m not desperate enough to need to win. But I was hosting, so I couldn’t refuse.
"Just as we were starting, the Count of Monte Cristo arrived. He joined the game. We played, and I won, I’m almost embarrassed to say I won five thousand francs. We finished at midnight. I couldn’t wait, so I hired a cab and rushed to the horse dealer’s. I must have looked insane, bursting in and running straight to the stable. Medea was there, eating hay. I saddled and bridled him, he was so cooperative, paid the stunned dealer his forty-five hundred francs, and rode off to spend the night riding through the Champs-Élysées. When I passed the Count’s house, I saw a light in one of his windows and thought I saw his shadow behind the curtain. Valentine, I’m convinced he knew I wanted that horse and lost the card game deliberately so I could afford to buy him."
"Maximilian, you’re way too imaginative. At this rate, you won’t love even me for long. Someone who lives in such a world of poetry and fantasy will find ordinary love like ours too boring. But listen, they’re calling me. Do you hear?"
"Valentine," Maximilian said desperately, "give me just one finger through the gate. Just your littlest finger, so I can kiss it."
"Maximilian, we agreed to be like two voices, two shadows to each other."
"Whatever you want, Valentine." Newest update provıded by N0veI.Fiɾe.net
"Will it make you happy?"
Valentine climbed onto a bench and reached through the gate, not just one finger, but her entire hand. Maximilian cried out in delight, lunging forward to catch her hand and press fervent kisses against it.
She quickly withdrew her hand and hurried back toward the house, almost frightened by the intensity of her own emotions.