Граф Монте-Кристо

The Fifth of October.

           ’"

           "Thenyouarenotconsoled?"askedthecount,surprised.

           "Oh,"exclaimedMorrel,withaglancefullofbitterreproach,"doyouthinkitpossiblethatIcouldbe?"

           "Listen,"saidthecount."Doyouunderstandthemeaningofmywords?Youcannottakemeforacommonplaceman,amererattle,emittingavagueandsenselessnoise.WhenIaskyouifyouareconsoled,Ispeaktoyouasamanforwhomthehumanhearthasnosecrets.Well,Morrel,letusbothexaminethedepthsofyourheart.Doyoustillfeelthesamefeverishimpatienceofgriefwhichmadeyoustartlikeawoundedlion?Haveyoustillthatdevouringthirstwhichcanonlybeappeasedinthegrave?Areyoustillactuatedbytheregretwhichdragsthelivingtothepursuitofdeath;orareyouonlysufferingfromtheprostrationoffatigueandthewearinessofhopedeferred?Hasthelossofmemoryrendereditimpossibleforyoutoweep?Oh,mydearfriend,ifthisbethecaseifyoucannolongerweep,ifyourfrozenheartbedead,ifyouputallyourtrustinGod,then,Maximilian,youareconsoleddonotcomplain."

           "Count,"saidMorrel,inafirmandatthesametimesoftvoice,"listentome,astoamanwhosethoughtsareraisedtoheaven,thoughheremainsonearth;Icometodieinthearmsofafriend.Certainly,therearepeoplewhomIlove.IlovemysisterJulieIloveherhusbandEmmanuel;butIrequireastrongmindtosmileonmylastmoments.

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Страница 1917 из 1932