Граф Монте-Кристо

The House of Morrel & Son.

           

           "Comein,comein,"saidMorrel,"forIpresumeyouareallatthedoor."

           ScarcelyhadheutteredthosewordsthanMadameMorrelenteredweepingbitterly.Emmanuelfollowedher,andintheantechamberwerevisibletheroughfacesofsevenoreighthalf-nakedsailors.AtthesightofthesementheEnglishmanstartedandadvancedastep;thenrestrainedhimself,andretiredintothefarthestandmostobscurecorneroftheapartment.MadameMorrelsatdownbyherhusbandandtookoneofhishandsinhers,Juliestilllaywithherheadonhisshoulder,EmmanuelstoodinthecentreofthechamberandseemedtoformthelinkbetweenMorrel’sfamilyandthesailorsatthedoor.

           "Howdidthishappen?"saidMorrel.

           "Drawnearer,Penelon,"saidtheyoungman,"andtellusallaboutit."

           Anoldseaman,bronzedbythetropicalsun,advanced,twirlingtheremainsofatarpaulinbetweenhishands."Good-day,M.Morrel,"saidhe,asifhehadjustquittedMarseillesthepreviousevening,andhadjustreturnedfromAixorToulon.

           "Good-day,Penelon,"returnedMorrel,whocouldnotrefrainfromsmilingthroughhistears,"whereisthecaptain?"

           "Thecaptain,M.MorrelhehasstayedbehindsickatPalma;butpleaseGod,itwon’tbemuch,andyouwillseehiminafewdaysallaliveandhearty."

           "Well,nowtellyourstory,Penelon.

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Страница 429 из 1932