Граф Монте-Кристо

The Burglary.

           MeanwhileMonteCristohadrapidlytakenoffhisgreat-coat,waistcoat,andshirt,andonemightdistinguishbytheglimmeringthroughtheopenpanelthatheworeaplianttunicofsteelmail,ofwhichthelastinFrance,wheredaggersarenolongerdreaded,waswornbyKingLouisXVI.,whofearedthedaggerathisbreast,andwhoseheadwascleftwithahatchet.Thetunicsoondisappearedunderalongcassock,asdidhishairunderapriest’swig;thethree-corneredhatoverthiseffectuallytransformedthecountintoanabbe.

           Theman,hearingnothingmore,stooderect,andwhileMonteCristowascompletinghisdisguisehadadvancedstraighttothesecretary,whoselockwasbeginningtocrackunderhisnightingale.

           "Tryagain,"whisperedthecount,whodependedonthesecretspring,whichwasunknowntothepicklock,cleverashemightbe-"tryagain,youhaveafewminutes’workthere."Andheadvancedtothewindow.Themanwhomhehadseenseatedonafencehadgotdown,andwasstillpacingthestreet;but,strangeasitappeared,hecarednotforthosewhomightpassfromtheavenueoftheChamps–ElyseesorbytheFaubourgSt.Honore;hisattentionwasengrossedwithwhatwaspassingatthecount’s,andhisonlyaimappearedtobetodiscerneverymovementinthedressing-room.

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