The Count of Monte Cristo

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Madame de Villefort had multiplied her questions in order to gain one
answer, but to all her inquiries M. de Villefort remained mute and cold
as a statue. "Edward," said Villefort, fixing an imperious glance on
the child, "go and play in the drawing-room, my dear; I wish to speak
to your mamma." Madame de Villefort shuddered at the sight of that cold
countenance, that resolute tone, and the awfully strange preliminaries.
Edward raised his head, looked at his mother, and then, finding that
she did not confirm the order, began cutting off the heads of his leaden
soldiers.

"Edward," cried M. de Villefort, so harshly that the child started up
from the floor, "do you hear me?--Go!" The child, unaccustomed to such
treatment, arose, pale and trembling; it would be difficult to say
whether his emotion were caused by fear or passion. His father went up
to him, took him in his arms, and kissed his forehead. "Go," he said:
"go, my child." Edward ran out. M. de Villefort went to the door, which
he closed behind the child, and bolted. "Dear me!" said the young woman,