The Count of Monte Cristo

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the balcony. Morrel shuddered; he thought he heard a sob.

It cannot be wondered at that his mind, generally so courageous, but
now disturbed by the two strongest human passions, love and fear, was
weakened even to the indulgence of superstitious thoughts. Although
it was impossible that Valentine should see him, hidden as he was, he
thought he heard the shadow at the window call him; his disturbed mind
told him so. This double error became an irresistible reality, and by
one of the incomprehensible transports of youth, he bounded from his
hiding-place, and with two strides, at the risk of being seen, at the
risk of alarming Valentine, at the risk of being discovered by
some exclamation which might escape the young girl, he crossed the
flower-garden, which by the light of the moon resembled a large white
lake, and having passed the rows of orange-trees which extended in front
of the house, he reached the step, ran quickly up and pushed the door,
which opened without offering any resistance. Valentine had not seen
him. Her eyes, raised towards heaven, were watching a silvery cloud