Граф Монте-Кристо

Madame de Saint–Meran.

           Thenextmorningshefoundhergrandmotherinbed;thefeverhadnotabated,onthecontraryhereyesglistenedandsheappearedtobesufferingfromviolentnervousirritability."Oh,deargrandmamma,areyouworse?"exclaimedValentine,perceivingallthesesignsofagitation.

           "No,mychild,no,"saidMadamedeSaint–Meran;"butIwasimpatientlywaitingforyourarrival,thatImightsendforyourfather."

           "Myfather?"inquiredValentine,uneasily.

           "Yes,Iwishtospeaktohim."Valentinedurstnotopposehergrandmother’swish,thecauseofwhichshedidnotknow,andaninstantafterwardsVillefortentered."Sir,"saidMadamedeSaint–Meran,withoutusinganycircumlocution,andasiffearingshehadnotimetolose,"youwrotetomeconcerningthemarriageofthischild?"

           "Yes,madame,"repliedVillefort,"itisnotonlyprojectedbutarranged."

           "Yourintendedson-inlawisnamedM.Franzd’Epinay?"

           "Yes,madame."

           "IshenotthesonofGenerald’Epinaywhowasonourside,andwhowasassassinatedsomedaysbeforetheusurperreturnedfromtheIslandofElba?"

           "Thesame."

           "DoeshenotdisliketheideaofmarryingthegranddaughterofaJacobin?"

           "Ourcivildissensionsarenowhappilyextinguished,mother,"saidVillefort;"M.d’Epinaywasquiteachildwhenhisfatherdied,heknowsverylittleofM.

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