Граф Монте-Кристо

The Insult.

           "

           "Probably,"saidMonteCristowithhisimperturbabletranquillity.

           "Butwhatshallyoudowithhim?"

           "Withwhom?"

           "WithAlbert."

           "WhatshallIdowithAlbert?Ascertainly,Maximilian,asInowpressyourhand,Ishallkillhimbeforeteno’clocktomorrowmorning."Morrel,inhisturn,tookMonteCristo’shandinbothofhis,andheshudderedtofeelhowcoldandsteadyitwas.

           "Ah,Count,"saidhe,"hisfatherloveshimsomuch!"

           "Donotspeaktomeofthat,"saidMonteCristo,withthefirstmovementofangerhehadbetrayed;"Iwillmakehimsuffer."Morrel,amazed,letfallMonteCristo’shand."Count,count!"saidhe.

           "DearMaximilian,"interruptedthecount,"listenhowadorablyDuprezissingingthatline

           ‘OMathilde!idoledemoname!’

           "IwasthefirsttodiscoverDuprezatNaples,andthefirsttoapplaudhim.Bravo,bravo!"Morrelsawitwasuselesstosaymore,andrefrained.Thecurtain,whichhadrisenatthecloseofthescenewithAlbert,againfell,andarapwasheardatthedoor.

           "Comein,"saidMonteCristowithavoicethatbetrayednottheleastemotion;andimmediatelyBeauchampappeared."Good-evening,M.Beauchamp,"saidMonteCristo,asifthiswasthefirsttimehehadseenthejournalistthatevening;"beseated."

           Beauchampbowed,and,sittingdown,"Sir,"saidhe,"IjustnowaccompaniedM.

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