At Madame de Villefort’s suggestion, he immediately blinked multiple times, a complete refusal.
Annoyed, she bit her lip. "Then shall I send Valentine?"
The old man eagerly closed both eyes. Yes, that’s exactly what he wanted.
The couple bowed and left, ordering that Valentine be sent to her grandfather. They felt sure she’d have her hands full calming the old man down.
Valentine, her face still flushed with emotion, entered moments after her parents left. One look told her that her grandfather was suffering and desperately wanted to tell her something.
"Dear Grandpapa!" she cried. "What happened? Did they upset you? Are you angry?"
The paralytic closed his eyes. Yes.
"Who made you angry? Was it Father?"
"Madame de Villefort?"
"I made you angry?" Valentine gasped in shock.
"But what did I do, dear Grandpapa?" Valentine cried. "I haven’t seen you all day. Has someone been saying things about me?"
Yes, the eager look said.
"Let me think... Oh! Monsieur and Madame de Villefort were just here, weren’t they?"
"And they told you something that made you angry? What was it? Should I ask them so I can fix things?"
No, no, the look said firmly.
"You’re frightening me. What could they have said?" She thought hard.
"Oh, I know," she said quietly, moving close. "They talked about my marriage, didn’t they?"
Yes, the angry look confirmed.
"I understand. You’re upset that I kept it secret. But they insisted I not tell anyone, even you! They didn’t even inform me of their plans properly. I only found out by accident. That’s why I’ve been so quiet about it. Please forgive me, Grandpapa."
But the look didn’t soften. It seemed to say, It’s not just your silence that hurts me.
"Then what is it?" the girl asked. "Do you think I’ll abandon you when I’m married? That I’ll forget you?"
"They told you that Monsieur d’Epinay agreed we’d all live together?"
"Then why are you still upset?"
The old man’s eyes beamed with gentle affection.
"Yes, I understand," Valentine said. "It’s because you love me."
"And you’re afraid I’ll be unhappy?"
"You don’t like Monsieur Franz?"
No, no, no, the eyes repeated forcefully.
"You’re against this engagement?"
"Listen," Valentine said, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around her grandfather’s neck. "I’m upset too, because I don’t love Monsieur Franz d’Epinay."
Intense joy lit up the old man’s eyes.
"Remember when I wanted to join a convent and you got so angry with me?" A tear trembled in the invalid’s eye. "Well," Valentine continued, "I suggested that to escape this horrible marriage that’s driving me to despair."
Noirtier’s breathing became thick and labored.
"This marriage upsets you too, doesn’t it? Oh, if only you could help me! If we could work together to stop their plan! But you’re powerless against them. You, whose mind is so sharp and whose will is so strong, are just as weak and helpless in this fight as I am. You who would have been such a powerful protector in your healthy days can now only share my joys and sorrows without being able to do anything about them. Still, that’s something, and I’m grateful. At least heaven left me your sympathy and love."
At these words, such deep meaning appeared in Noirtier’s eye that Valentine thought she could read: You’re wrong. I can still do much for you.
"Do you think you can help me, dear Grandpapa?"
Noirtier raised his eyes, the signal they’d agreed upon when he wanted something.
"What do you need?" Valentine asked, trying to think of everything he might want. She listed possibilities aloud, but everything got a "no."
"Okay, this isn’t working. Let me try something else." She began reciting the alphabet from A to N. When she reached N, the paralytic made her understand she’d hit the right letter.
"Ah! The thing you want starts with N. Let’s see... Na... Ne... Ni... No-"
Valentine grabbed a dictionary and placed it on a desk in front of Noirtier. She opened it, and seeing his eye fixed intently on the pages, she ran her finger rapidly up and down the columns.
Six years of paralysis had forced Valentine to develop ingenious methods for understanding her grandfather’s wishes. Constant practice had perfected her skills, she could guess his meaning almost as fast as if he could speak.
At the word "Notary," Noirtier signaled her to stop.
"Notary? You want a notary, Grandpapa?"
"You want me to send for a notary?"
"Should I tell Father?"
"Do you want the notary immediately?"
"Then I’ll send for one right away. Is that everything?"
Valentine rang the bell and ordered the servant to tell Monsieur or Madame de Villefort that their presence was requested in Monsieur Noirtier’s room.
"Are you satisfied now?"
"I thought so, it’s not hard to tell," the young girl smiled at him as if he were a child.
Villefort entered, followed by Barrois.
"What do you want, sir?" he asked the paralytic.
"Sir," said Valentine, "my grandfather wants a notary."
At this strange, unexpected demand, Villefort and his father exchanged looks.
Yes, the old man’s expression said with a firmness that declared he was fully prepared to fight this battle with Valentine and Barrois on his side. They both knew what he wanted.
"You want a notary?" Villefort asked.
Noirtier didn’t answer.
"What do you need a notary for?" Villefort repeated.
The invalid’s eye remained fixed, his resolution was unshakable.
"Is this to cause trouble for us? Do you really think it’s worth it?" Villefort said.
"Look," said Barrois with the freedom and loyalty of an old servant, "if Monsieur Noirtier asks for a notary, then he clearly wants one. So I’ll go fetch one right now."
Barrois acknowledged no master except Noirtier and never let anyone contradict the old man’s wishes.
Yes, I want a notary, the old man signaled, closing his eyes with a defiant look that seemed to say, And I’d like to see who dares refuse me.
"You’ll have your notary since you absolutely insist, sir," Villefort said. "But I’ll explain your medical condition to him and apologize in advance, because this scene will undoubtedly be ridiculous."
"Never mind that," Barrois said. "I’m going to get a notary anyway."
And the old servant departed triumphantly on his mission.