The Count of Monte Cristo

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gliding over the azure, its form that of a shadow mounting towards
heaven. Her poetic and excited mind pictured it as the soul of her
grandmother.

Meanwhile, Morrel had traversed the anteroom and found the staircase,
which, being carpeted, prevented his approach being heard, and he had
regained that degree of confidence that the presence of M. de Villefort
even would not have alarmed him. He was quite prepared for any such
encounter. He would at once approach Valentine's father and acknowledge
all, begging Villefort to pardon and sanction the love which united two
fond and loving hearts. Morrel was mad. Happily he did not meet any one.
Now, especially, did he find the description Valentine had given of the
interior of the house useful to him; he arrived safely at the top of
the staircase, and while he was feeling his way, a sob indicated the
direction he was to take. He turned back, a door partly open enabled him
to see his road, and to hear the voice of one in sorrow. He pushed the
door open and entered. At the other end of the room, under a white sheet