The Count of Monte Cristo

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sedentary a life of late; accustomed formerly to ride on horseback,
or in the carriage, to the four corners of Europe, the monotonous walk
around that arm-chair has killed him--his blood has thickened. He was
stout, had a short, thick neck; he was attacked with apoplexy, and I was
called in too late. By the way," added he in a low tone, "take care to
throw away that cup of syrup of violets in the ashes."

The doctor, without shaking hands with Villefort, without adding a word
to what he had said, went out, amid the tears and lamentations of the
whole household. The same evening all Villefort's servants, who had
assembled in the kitchen, and had a long consultation, came to
tell Madame de Villefort that they wished to leave. No entreaty, no
proposition of increased wages, could induce them to remain; to every
argument they replied, "We must go, for death is in this house." They
all left, in spite of prayers and entreaties, testifying their regret
at leaving so good a master and mistress, and especially Mademoiselle
Valentine, so good, so kind, and so gentle. Villefort looked at