Граф Монте-Кристо

The Dappled Grays.

           Amassofstraightblackhair,defyingallattemptstotrainorcurlit,felloverhisprojectingforehead,andhungdowntohisshoulders,givingincreasedvivacitytoeyesalreadysparklingwithayouthfulloveofmischiefandfondnessforeveryforbiddenenjoyment.Hismouthwaslarge,andthelips,whichhadnotyetregainedtheircolor,wereparticularlythin;infact,thedeepandcraftylook,givingapredominantexpressiontothechild’sface,belongedrathertoaboyoftwelveorfourteenthantoonesoyoung.Hisfirstmovementwastofreehimselfbyaviolentpushfromtheencirclingarmsofhismother,andtorushforwardtothecasketfromwhencethecounthadtakenthephialofelixir;then,withoutaskingpermissionofanyone,heproceeded,inallthewilfulnessofaspoiledchildunaccustomedtorestraineitherwhimsorcaprices,topullthecorksoutofallthebottles.

           "Touchnothing,mylittlefriend,"criedthecounteagerly;"someofthoseliquidsarenotonlydangeroustotaste,buteventoinhale."

           MadamedeVillefortbecameverypale,and,seizingherson’sarm,drewhimanxiouslytowardher;but,oncesatisfiedofhissafety,shealsocastabriefbutexpressiveglanceonthecasket,whichwasnotlostuponthecount.AtthismomentAlientered.

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