Граф Монте-Кристо

Mother and Son.

           "Fromthecount,"saidBertuccio.Alberttooktheletter,opened,andreadit,thenlookedroundforBertuccio,buthewasgone.HereturnedtoMercedeswithtearsinhiseyesandheavingbreast,andwithoututteringawordhegavehertheletter.Mercedesread:—

           AlbertWhileshowingyouthatIhavediscoveredyourplans,Ihopealsotoconvinceyouofmydelicacy.Youarefree,youleavethecount’shouse,andyoutakeyourmothertoyourhome;butreflect,Albert,youowehermorethanyourpoornobleheartcanpayher.Keepthestruggleforyourself,bearallthesuffering,butspareherthetrialofpovertywhichmustaccompanyyourfirstefforts;forshedeservesnoteventheshadowofthemisfortunewhichhasthisdayfallenonher,andprovidenceisnotwillingthattheinnocentshouldsufferfortheguilty.IknowyouaregoingtoleavetheRueduHelderwithouttakinganythingwithyou.DonotseektoknowhowIdiscoveredit;Iknowitthatissufficient.

           Now,listen,Albert.Twenty-fouryearsagoIreturned,proudandjoyful,tomycountry.Ihadabetrothed,Albert,alovelygirlwhomIadored,andIwasbringingtomybetrothedahundredandfiftylouis,painfullyamassedbyceaselesstoil.Thismoneywasforher;Idestineditforher,and,knowingthetreacheryoftheseaIburiedourtreasureinthelittlegardenofthehousemyfatherlivedinatMarseilles,ontheAlleesdeMeillan.Yourmother,Albert,knowsthatpoorhousewell

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