Граф Монте-Крісто

The Promise.

           

           "Ispeakasonewhoadmiresyou,mademoiselle."

           "Mademoiselle,"criedValentine;"mademoiselle!Oh,selfishmanheseesmeindespair,andpretendshecannotunderstandme!"

           "YoumistakeIunderstandyouperfectly.YouwillnotopposeM.Villefort,youwillnotdispleasethemarchioness,andtomorrowyouwillsignthecontractwhichwillbindyoutoyourhusband."

           "But,monDieu,tellme,howcanIdootherwise?"

           "Donotappealtome,mademoiselle;Ishallbeabadjudgeinsuchacase;myselfishnesswillblindme,"repliedMorrel,whoselowvoiceandclinchedhandsannouncedhisgrowingdesperation.

           "Whatwouldyouhaveproposed,Maximilian,hadyoufoundmewillingtoaccede?"

           "Itisnotformetosay."

           "Youarewrong;youmustadvisemewhattodo."

           "Doyouseriouslyaskmyadvice,Valentine?"

           "Certainly,dearMaximilian,forifitisgood,Iwillfollowit;youknowmydevotiontoyou."

           "Valentine,"saidMorrelpushingasidealooseplank,"givemeyourhandintokenofforgivenessofmyanger;mysensesareconfused,andduringthelasthourthemostextravagantthoughtshavepassedthroughmybrain.Oh,ifyourefusemyadvice"—

           "Whatdoyouadvise?"saidValentine,raisinghereyestoheavenandsighing."Iamfree,"repliedMaximilian,"andrichenoughtosupportyou.

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