Граф Монте-Кристо

A Nocturnal Interview.

           "Notcrushthataccursedrace?"murmuredhe;"abandonmypurposeatthemomentofitsaccomplishment?Impossible,madame,impossible!"

           "Edmond,"saidthepoormother,whotriedeverymeans,"whenIcallyouEdmond,whydoyounotcallmeMercedes?"

           "Mercedes!"repeatedMonteCristo;"Mercedes!Wellyes,youareright;thatnamehasstillitscharms,andthisisthefirsttimeforalongperiodthatIhavepronounceditsodistinctly.Oh,Mercedes,Ihaveutteredyournamewiththesighofmelancholy,withthegroanofsorrow,withthelasteffortofdespair;Ihaveuttereditwhenfrozenwithcold,crouchedonthestrawinmydungeon;Ihaveutteredit,consumedwithheat,rollingonthestonefloorofmyprison.Mercedes,Imustrevengemyself,forIsufferedfourteenyearsfourteenyearsIwept,Icursed;nowItellyou,Mercedes,Imustrevengemyself."

           Thecount,fearingtoyieldtotheentreatiesofherhehadsoardentlyloved,calledhissufferingstotheassistanceofhishatred."Revengeyourself,then,Edmond,"criedthepoormother;"butletyourvengeancefallontheculpritsonhim,onme,butnotonmyson!"

           "Itiswritteninthegoodbook,"saidMonteCristo,"thatthesinsofthefathersshallfallupontheirchildrentothethirdandfourthgeneration.

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Страница 1544 из 1932