Граф Монте-Кристо

Expiation.

           TocallEdwardhemustreawakentheechoofthatroomwhichnowappearedlikeasepulchre;tospeakseemedlikeviolatingthesilenceofthetomb.Histonguewasparalyzedinhismouth.

           "Edward!"hestammered—"Edward!"Thechilddidnotanswer.Where,then,couldhebe,ifhehadenteredhismother’sroomandnotsincereturned?Hesteppedforward.ThecorpseofMadamedeVillefortwasstretchedacrossthedoorwayleadingtotheroominwhichEdwardmustbe;thoseglaringeyesseemedtowatchoverthethreshold,andthelipsborethestampofaterribleandmysteriousirony.Throughtheopendoorwasvisibleaportionoftheboudoir,containinganuprightpianoandabluesatincouch.Villefortsteppedforwardtwoorthreepaces,andbeheldhischildlyingnodoubtasleeponthesofa.Theunhappymanutteredanexclamationofjoy;arayoflightseemedtopenetratetheabyssofdespairanddarkness.Hehadonlytostepoverthecorpse,entertheboudoir,takethechildinhisarms,andfleefar,faraway.

           Villefortwasnolongerthecivilizedman;hewasatigerhurtuntodeath,gnashinghisteethinhiswound.Henolongerfearedrealities,butphantoms.Heleapedoverthecorpseasifithadbeenaburningbrazier.Hetookthechildinhisarms,embracedhim,shookhim,calledhim,butthechildmadenoresponse.Hepressedhisburninglipstothecheeks,buttheywereicycoldandpale;hefeltthestiffenedlimbs;hepressedhishandupontheheart,butitnolongerbeatthechildwasdead.

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Страница 1837 из 1932