Граф Монте-Кристо

The Promise.

           "ValentinetookMaximilian’shand."Lookattentively,then,atthisgentleman."TheoldmanfixedhisscrutinizinggazewithslightastonishmentonMorrel."ItisM.MaximilianMorrel,"saidshe;"thesonofthatgoodmerchantofMarseilles,whomyoudoubtlessrecollect."

           "Yes,"saidtheoldman."Hebringsanirreproachablename,whichMaximilianislikelytorenderglorious,sinceatthirtyyearsofageheisacaptain,anofficeroftheLegionofHonor."Theoldmansignifiedthatherecollectedhim."Well,grandpapa,"saidValentine,kneelingbeforehim,andpointingtoMaximilian,"Ilovehim,andwillbeonlyhis;wereIcompelledtomarryanother,Iwoulddestroymyself."

           Theeyesoftheparalyticexpressedamultitudeoftumultuousthoughts."YoulikeM.MaximilianMorrel,doyounot,grandpapa?"askedValentine.

           "Yes."

           "Andyouwillprotectus,whoareyourchildren,againstthewillofmyfather?"NoirtiercastanintelligentglanceatMorrel,asiftosay,"perhapsImay."Maximilianunderstoodhim.

           "Mademoiselle,"saidhe,"youhaveasacreddutytofulfilinyourdeceasedgrandmother’sroom,willyouallowmethehonorofafewminutes’conversationwithM.Noirtier?"

           "Thatisit,"saidtheoldman’seye.ThenhelookedanxiouslyatValentine.

           "Doyoufearhewillnotunderstand?"

           "Yes."

           "Oh,wehavesooftenspokenofyou,thatheknowsexactlyhowItalktoyou.

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