Граф Монте-Кристо

Pyramus and Thisbe.

           Franzd’Epinay,yourbetrothedlover,andyoushrinkfromtheideaofbeinghiswife;buttellme,Valentine,istherenoothersorrowinyourheart?Youseemedevotedtoyou,bodyandsoul,mylifeandeachwarmdropthatcirclesroundmyheartareconsecratedtoyourservice;youknowfullwellthatmyexistenceisboundupinyoursthatwereItoloseyouIwouldnotoutlivethehourofsuchcrushingmisery;yetyouspeakwithcalmnessoftheprospectofyourbeingthewifeofanother!Oh,Valentine,wereIinyourplace,anddidIfeelconscious,asyoudo,ofbeingworshipped,adored,withsuchaloveasmine,ahundredtimesatleastshouldIhavepassedmyhandbetweentheseironbars,andsaid,‘Takethishand,dearestMaximilian,andbelievethat,livingordead,Iamyoursyoursonly,andforever!’"Thepoorgirlmadenoreply,butherlovercouldplainlyhearhersobsandtears.Arapidchangetookplaceintheyoungman’sfeelings."Dearest,dearestValentine,"exclaimedhe,"forgivemeifIhaveoffendedyou,andforgetthewordsIspokeiftheyhaveunwittinglycausedyoupain.

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