Граф Монте-Кристо

Haidee.

           Myfatherwasendeavoringtopiercewithhiseagerlookstheremotestvergeofthehorizon,examiningattentivelyeveryblackspeckwhichappearedonthelake,whilemymother,recliningbyhisside,restedherheadonhisshoulder,andIplayedathisfeet,admiringeverythingIsawwiththatunsophisticatedinnocenceofchildhoodwhichthrowsacharmroundobjectsinsignificantinthemselves,butwhichinitseyesareinvestedwiththegreatestimportance.TheheightsofPindustoweredaboveus;thecastleofYaninarosewhiteandangularfromthebluewatersofthelake,andtheimmensemassesofblackvegetationwhich,viewedinthedistance,gavetheideaoflichensclingingtotherocks,wereinrealitygiganticfir-treesandmyrtles.

           "Onemorningmyfathersentforus;mymotherhadbeencryingallthenight,andwasverywretched;wefoundthepashacalm,butpalerthanusual.‘Takecourage,Vasiliki,’saidhe;‘todayarrivesthefirmanofthemaster,andmyfatewillbedecided.Ifmypardonbecomplete,weshallreturntriumphanttoYanina;ifthenewsbeinauspicious,wemustflythisnight.’‘Butsupposingourenemyshouldnotallowustodoso?’saidmymother.‘Oh,makeyourselfeasyonthathead,’saidAli,smiling;‘Selimandhisflaminglancewillsettlethatmatter.Theywouldbegladtoseemedead,buttheywouldnotlikethemselvestodiewithme.’

           "Mymotheronlyansweredbysighstoconsolationswhichsheknewdidnotcomefrommyfather’sheart.

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