Граф Монте-Кристо

Bread and Salt.

           Thisisthehistoryofmostmenwhohavepassedtwentyyearsofage.Perhapsmyheartwasweakerthantheheartsofmostmen,andIsufferedmorethantheywouldhavedoneinmyplace;thatisall."Thecountessstoppedforamoment,asifgaspingforbreath."Yes,"shesaid,"andyouhavestillpreservedthisloveinyourheartonecanonlyloveonceanddidyoueverseeheragain?"

           "Never."

           "Never?"

           "Ineverreturnedtothecountrywhereshelived."

           "ToMalta?"

           "Yes;Malta."

           "Sheis,then,nowatMalta?"

           "Ithinkso."

           "Andhaveyouforgivenherforallshehasmadeyousuffer?"

           "Heryes."

           "Butonlyher;doyouthenstillhatethosewhoseparatedyou?"

           "Ihatethem?Notatall;whyshouldI?"ThecountessplacedherselfbeforeMonteCristo,stillholdinginherhandaportionoftheperfumedgrapes."Takesome,"shesaid."Madame,InevereatMuscatelgrapes,"repliedMonteCristo,asifthesubjecthadnotbeenmentionedbefore.Thecountessdashedthegrapesintothenearestthicket,withagestureofdespair."Inflexibleman!"shemurmured.MonteCristoremainedasunmovedasifthereproachhadnotbeenaddressedtohim.Albertatthismomentranin.

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