Граф Монте-Кристо

The Third Attack.

           Itseemedasifaflowofbloodhadascendedfromthechesttothehead.

           "Adieu,adieu!"murmuredtheoldman,claspingEdmond’shandconvulsively—"adieu!"

           "Oh,no—no,notyet,"hecried;"donotforsakeme!Oh,succorhim!Help—help—help!"

           "Hush—hush!"murmuredthedyingman,"thattheymaynotseparateusifyousaveme!"

           "Youareright.Oh,yes,yes;beassuredIshallsaveyou!Besides,althoughyousuffermuch,youdonotseemtobeinsuchagonyasyouwerebefore."

           "Donotmistake.Isufferlessbecausethereisinmelessstrengthtoendure.Atyouragewehavefaithinlife;itistheprivilegeofyouthtobelieveandhope,butoldmenseedeathmoreclearly.Oh,’tishere—’tishere—’tisover—mysightisgone—mysensesfail!Yourhand,Dantes!Adieu—adieu!"Andraisinghimselfbyafinaleffort,inwhichhesummonedallhisfaculties,hesaid—"MonteCristo,forgetnotMonteCristo!"Andhefellbackonthebed.Thecrisiswasterrible,andarigidformwithtwistedlimbs,swolleneyelids,andlipsfleckedwithbloodyfoam,layonthebedoftorture,inplaceoftheintellectualbeingwhosolatelyrestedthere.

           Dantestookthelamp,placeditonaprojectingstoneabovethebed,whenceitstremulouslightfellwithstrangeandfantasticrayonthedistortedcountenanceandmotionless,stiffenedbody.Withsteadygazeheawaitedconfidentlythemomentforadministeringtherestorative.

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