Граф Монте-Кристо

The Telegraph.

           "

           "Atelegraph?"repeatedMadamedeVillefort.

           "Yes,atelegraph.Ihadoftenseenoneplacedattheendofaroadonahillock,andinthelightofthesunitsblackarms,bendingineverydirection,alwaysremindedmeoftheclawsofanimmensebeetle,andIassureyouitwasneverwithoutemotionthatIgazedonit,forIcouldnothelpthinkinghowwonderfulitwasthatthesevarioussignsshouldbemadetocleavetheairwithsuchprecisionastoconveytothedistanceofthreehundredleaguestheideasandwishesofamansittingatatableatoneendofthelinetoanothermansimilarlyplacedattheoppositeextremity,andallthiseffectedbyasimpleactofvolitiononthepartofthesenderofthemessage.Ibegantothinkofgenii,sylphs,gnomes,inshort,ofalltheministersoftheoccultsciences,untilIlaughedaloudatthefreaksofmyownimagination.Now,itneveroccurredtometowishforanearerinspectionoftheselargeinsects,withtheirlongblackclaws,forIalwaysfearedtofindundertheirstonewingssomelittlehumangeniusfaggedtodeathwithcabals,factions,andgovernmentintrigues.

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