Граф Монте-Кристо

The Cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise.

           Ireachedtheageoftwenty-ninewithoutloving,fornoneofthefeelingsIbeforethenexperiencedmerittheappellationoflove.Well,attwenty-nineIsawValentine;fortwoyearsIhavelovedher,fortwoyearsIhaveseenwritteninherheart,asinabook,allthevirtuesofadaughterandwife.Count,topossessValentinewouldhavebeenahappinesstooinfinite,tooecstatic,toocomplete,toodivineforthisworld,sinceithasbeendeniedme;butwithoutValentinetheearthisdesolate."

           "Ihavetoldyoutohope,"saidthecount.

           "Thenhaveacare,Irepeat,foryouseektopersuademe,andifyousucceedIshouldlosemyreason,forIshouldhopethatIcouldagainbeholdValentine."Thecountsmiled."Myfriend,myfather,"saidMorrelwithexcitement,"haveacare,Iagainrepeat,forthepoweryouwieldovermealarmsme.Weighyourwordsbeforeyouspeak,formyeyeshavealreadybecomebrighter,andmyheartbeatsstrongly;becautious,oryouwillmakemebelieveinsupernaturalagencies.Imustobeyyou,thoughyoubademecallforththedeadorwalkuponthewater."

           "Hope,myfriend,"repeatedthecount.

           "Ah,"saidMorrel,fallingfromtheheightofexcitementtotheabyssofdespair"ah,youareplayingwithme,likethosegood,orratherselfishmotherswhosoothetheirchildrenwithhoneyedwords,becausetheirscreamsannoythem.

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Страница 1760 из 1932