Граф Монте-Кристо

The House at Auteuil.

           "Knock,"saidthecount,"andannounceme."Bertuccioknocked,thedooropened,andtheconciergeappeared."Whatisit?"askedhe.

           "Itisyournewmaster,mygoodfellow,"saidthefootman.Andheheldouttotheconciergethenotary’sorder.

           "Thehouseissold,then?"demandedtheconcierge;"andthisgentlemaniscomingtolivehere?"

           "Yes,myfriend,"returnedthecount;"andIwillendeavortogiveyounocausetoregretyouroldmaster."

           "Oh,monsieur,"saidtheconcierge,"Ishallnothavemuchcausetoregrethim,forhecameherebutseldom;itisfiveyearssincehewasherelast,andhedidwelltosellthehouse,foritdidnotbringhiminanythingatall."

           "Whatwasthenameofyouroldmaster?"saidMonteCristo.

           "TheMarquisofSaint–Meran.Ah,Iamsurehehasnotsoldthehouseforwhathegaveforit."

           "TheMarquisofSaint–Meran!"returnedthecount."Thenameisnotunknowntome;theMarquisofSaint–Meran!"andheappearedtomeditate.

           "Anoldgentleman,"continuedtheconcierge,"astanchfolloweroftheBourbons;hehadanonlydaughter,whomarriedM.deVillefort,whohadbeentheking’sattorneyatNimes,andafterwardsatVersailles."MonteCristoglancedatBertuccio,whobecamewhiterthanthewallagainstwhichheleanedtopreventhimselffromfalling."Andisnotthisdaughterdead?"demandedMonteCristo;"IfancyIhaveheardso.

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