Граф Монте-Кристо

The Bell and Bottle Tavern.

           HavingpassedthroughtheRueMontBlanc,guidedbytheinstinctwhichleadsthievesalwaystotakethesafestpath,hefoundhimselfattheendoftheRueLafayette.Therehestopped,breathlessandpanting.Hewasquitealone;ononesidewasthevastwildernessoftheSaint–Lazare,ontheother,Parisenshroudedindarkness."AmItobecaptured?"hecried;"no,notifIcanusemoreactivitythanmyenemies.Mysafetyisnowamerequestionofspeed."AtthismomenthesawacabatthetopoftheFaubourgPoissonniere.Thedulldriver,smokinghispipe,wasploddingalongtowardthelimitsoftheFaubourgSaint–Denis,wherenodoubtheordinarilyhadhisstation."Ho,friend!"saidBenedetto.

           "Whatdoyouwant,sir?"askedthedriver.

           "Isyourhorsetired?"

           "Tired?oh,yes,tiredenoughhehasdonenothingthewholeofthisblessedday!Fourwretchedfares,andtwentysousover,makinginallsevenfrancs,areallthatIhaveearned,andIoughttotaketentotheowner."

           "Willyouaddthesetwentyfrancstothesevenyouhave?"

           "Withpleasure,sir;twentyfrancsarenottobedespised.TellmewhatIamtodoforthis."

           "Averyeasything,ifyourhorseisn’ttired."

           "Itellyouhe’llgolikethewindonlytellmewhichwaytodrive."

           "TowardstheLouvres."

           "Ah,Iknowthewayyougetgoodsweetenedrumoverthere.

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Страница 1657 из 1932