The Count of Monte Cristo

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Madame de Villefort was standing erect, pale, her features contracted,
and her eyes glaring horribly. "Heloise, Heloise!" he said, "what is the
matter? Speak!" The young woman extended her stiff white hands towards
him. "It is done, monsieur," she said with a rattling noise which seemed
to tear her throat. "What more do you want?" and she fell full length on
the floor. Villefort ran to her and seized her hand, which convulsively
clasped a crystal bottle with a golden stopper. Madame de Villefort was
dead. Villefort, maddened with horror, stepped back to the threshhold
of the door, fixing his eyes on the corpse: "My son!" he exclaimed
suddenly, "where is my son?--Edward, Edward!" and he rushed out of the
room, still crying, "Edward, Edward!" The name was pronounced in such a
tone of anguish that the servants ran up.

"Where is my son?" asked Villefort; "let him be removed from the house,
that he may not see"--

"Master Edward is not down-stairs, sir," replied the valet.