The Count of Monte Cristo

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"Ah, grandmamma," murmured Valentine, pressing her lips on the burning
brow, "do you wish to kill me? Oh, how feverish you are; we must not
send for a notary, but for a doctor."

"A doctor?" said she, shrugging her shoulders, "I am not ill; I am
thirsty--that is all."

"What are you drinking, dear grandmamma?"

"The same as usual, my dear, my glass is there on the table--give it to
me, Valentine." Valentine poured the orangeade into a glass and gave it
to her grandmother with a certain degree of dread, for it was the same
glass she fancied that had been touched by the spectre. The marchioness
drained the glass at a single draught, and then turned on her pillow,
repeating,--"The notary, the notary!"

M. de Villefort left the room, and Valentine seated herself at the