Граф Монте-Кристо

The Promise.

           "

           "Yes,"saidValentine,"Iwillnowacknowledgeyouareright,Maximilian;andnowareyousatisfiedwithyourbetrothal?"saidtheyounggirlsorrowfully.

           "MyadoredValentine,wordscannotexpressonehalfofmysatisfaction."Valentinehadapproached,orrather,hadplacedherlipssonearthefence,thattheynearlytouchedthoseofMorrel,whichwerepressedagainsttheothersideofthecoldandinexorablebarrier."Adieu,then,tillwemeetagain,"saidValentine,tearingherselfaway."Ishallhearfromyou?"

           "Yes."

           "Thanks,thanks,dearlove,adieu!"Thesoundofakisswasheard,andValentinefledthroughtheavenue.Morrellistenedtocatchthelastsoundofherdressbrushingthebranches,andofherfootsteponthegravel,thenraisedhiseyeswithanineffablesmileofthankfulnesstoheavenforbeingpermittedtobethusloved,andthenalsodisappeared.Theyoungmanreturnedhomeandwaitedalltheeveningandallthenextdaywithoutgettinganymessage.Itwasonlyonthefollowingday,ataboutteno’clockinthemorning,ashewasstartingtocallonM.Deschamps,thenotary,thathereceivedfromthepostmanasmallbillet,whichheknewtobefromValentine,althoughhehadnotbeforeseenherwriting.Itwastothiseffect:

           Tears,entreaties,prayers,haveavailedmenothing.Yesterday,fortwohours,IwasatthechurchofSaint–PhillippeduRoule,andfortwohoursIprayedmostfervently.

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