Граф Монте-Крісто

Ghosts.

           Bertuccio?"saidhe.

           "Yourexcellencyhasnotstatedthenumberofguests."

           "Ah,true."

           "Howmanycovers?"

           "Countforyourself."

           "Iseveryonehere,yourexcellency?"

           "Yes."

           Bertuccioglancedthroughthedoor,whichwasajar.Thecountwatchedhim."Goodheavens!"heexclaimed.

           "Whatisthematter?"saidthecount.

           "Thatwomanthatwoman!"

           "Which?"

           "Theonewithawhitedressandsomanydiamondsthefairone."

           "MadameDanglars?"

           "Idonotknowhername;butitisshe,sir,itisshe!"

           "Whomdoyoumean?"

           "Thewomanofthegarden!shethatwasencienteshewhowaswalkingwhileshewaitedfor"—Bertucciostoodattheopendoor,withhiseyesstartingandhishaironend.

           "Waitingforwhom?"Bertuccio,withoutanswering,pointedtoVillefortwithsomethingofthegestureMacbethusestopointoutBanquo."Oh,oh,"heatlengthmuttered,"doyousee?"

           "What?Who?"

           "Him!"

           "Him!M.deVillefort,theking’sattorney?CertainlyIseehim."

           "ThenIdidnotkillhim?"

           "Really,Ithinkyouaregoingmad,goodBertuccio,"saidthecount.

           "Thenheisnotdead?"

           "No;youseeplainlyheisnotdead.

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