Граф Монте-Кристо

The Catalans.

           

           "Good-day,"saidhe."Youcalledme,didn’tyou?"Andhefell,ratherthansatdown,ononeoftheseatswhichsurroundedthetable.

           "Icalledyoubecauseyouwererunninglikeamadman,andIwasafraidyouwouldthrowyourselfintothesea,"saidCaderousse,laughing."Why,whenamanhasfriends,theyarenotonlytoofferhimaglassofwine,but,moreover,topreventhisswallowingthreeorfourpintsofwaterunnecessarily!"

           Fernandgaveagroan,whichresembledasob,anddroppedhisheadintohishands,hiselbowsleaningonthetable.

           "Well,Fernand,Imustsay,"saidCaderousse,beginningtheconversation,withthatbrutalityofthecommonpeopleinwhichcuriositydestroysalldiplomacy,"youlookuncommonlylikearejectedlover;"andheburstintoahoarselaugh.

           "Bah!"saidDanglars,"aladofhismakewasnotborntobeunhappyinlove.Youarelaughingathim,Caderousse."

           "No,"hereplied,"onlyharkhowhesighs!Come,come,Fernand,"saidCaderousse,"holdupyourhead,andanswerus.It’snotpolitenottoreplytofriendswhoasknewsofyourhealth."

           "Myhealthiswellenough,"saidFernand,clinchinghishandswithoutraisinghishead.

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