Граф Монте-Кристо

The Meeting.

           "

           Whilehewasthusagitatedbygloomyuncertaintieswretchedwakingdreamsofgriefthefirstraysofmorningpiercedhiswindows,andshoneuponthepalebluepaperonwhichhehadjustinscribedhisjustificationofprovidence.Itwasjustfiveo’clockinthemorningwhenaslightnoiselikeastifledsighreachedhisear.Heturnedhishead,lookedaroundhim,andsawnoone;butthesoundwasrepeateddistinctlyenoughtoconvincehimofitsreality.

           Hearose,andquietlyopeningthedoorofthedrawing-room,sawHaidee,whohadfallenonachair,withherarmshangingdownandherbeautifulheadthrownback.Shehadbeenstandingatthedoor,topreventhisgoingoutwithoutseeingher,untilsleep,whichtheyoungcannotresist,hadoverpoweredherframe,weariedasshewaswithwatching.Thenoiseofthedoordidnotawakenher,andMonteCristogazedatherwithaffectionateregret."Sherememberedthatshehadason,"saidhe;"andIforgotIhadadaughter."Then,shakinghisheadsorrowfully,"PoorHaidee,"saidhe;"shewishedtoseeme,tospeaktome;shehasfearedorguessedsomething.Oh,Icannotgowithouttakingleaveofher;Icannotdiewithoutconfidinghertosomeone.

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