Граф Монте-Крісто

The Promise.

           

           "Ah,mydeardoctor,"saidtheprocureur,"heavendeclaresitselfagainstmyhouse!Whatadreadfuldeathwhatablow!Seeknottoconsoleme;alas,nothingcanalleviatesogreatasorrowthewoundistoodeepandtoofresh!Dead,dead!"Thecoldsweatsprangtotheyoungman’sbrow,andhisteethchattered.Whocouldbedeadinthathouse,whichVilleforthimselfhadcalledaccursed?"MydearM.deVillefort,"repliedthedoctor,withatonewhichredoubledtheterroroftheyoungman,"Ihavenotledyouheretoconsoleyou;onthecontrary"—

           "Whatcanyoumean?"askedtheprocureur,alarmed.

           "Imeanthatbehindthemisfortunewhichhasjusthappenedtoyou,thereisanother,perhaps,stillgreater."

           "Canitbepossible?"murmuredVillefort,claspinghishands."Whatareyougoingtotellme?"

           "Arewequitealone,myfriend?"

           "Yes,quite;butwhyalltheseprecautions?"

           "BecauseIhaveaterriblesecrettocommunicatetoyou,"saidthedoctor."Letussitdown."

           Villefortfell,ratherthanseatedhimself.Thedoctorstoodbeforehim,withonehandplacedonhisshoulder.Morrel,horrified,supportedhisheadwithonehand,andwiththeotherpressedhisheart,lestitsbeatingsshouldbeheard."Dead,dead!"repeatedhewithinhimself;andhefeltasifhewerealsodying.

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Roboto Lora
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Сторінка 1268 з 1932