Граф Монте-Кристо

The Pont du Gard Inn.

           "Why,hewassocalledastrulyasImyselfboretheappellationofGaspardCaderousse;buttellme,Ipray,whathasbecomeofpoorEdmond?Didyouknowhim?Ishealiveandatliberty?Isheprosperousandhappy?"

           "Hediedamorewretched,hopeless,heart-brokenprisonerthanthefelonswhopaythepenaltyoftheircrimesatthegalleysofToulon."

           AdeadlypallorfollowedtheflushonthecountenanceofCaderousse,whoturnedaway,andthepriestsawhimwipingthetearsfromhiseyeswiththecorneroftheredhandkerchieftwistedroundhishead.

           "Poorfellow,poorfellow!"murmuredCaderousse."Well,there,sir,isanotherproofthatgoodpeopleareneverrewardedonthisearth,andthatnonebutthewickedprosper.Ah,"continuedCaderousse,speakinginthehighlycoloredlanguageofthesouth,"theworldgrowsworseandworse.WhydoesnotGod,ifhereallyhatesthewicked,asheissaidtodo,senddownbrimstoneandfire,andconsumethemaltogether?"

           "YouspeakasthoughyouhadlovedthisyoungDantes,"observedtheabbe,withouttakinganynoticeofhiscompanion’svehemence.

           "AndsoIdid,"repliedCaderousse;"thoughonce,Iconfess,Ienviedhimhisgoodfortune.ButIsweartoyou,sir,Isweartoyou,byeverythingamanholdsdear,Ihave,sincethen,deeplyandsincerelylamentedhisunhappyfate."Therewasabriefsilence,duringwhichthefixed,searchingeyeoftheabbewasemployedinscrutinizingtheagitatedfeaturesoftheinn-keeper.

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