Граф Монте-Крісто

The King’s Closet at the Tuileries.

           deBonaparte;donotconcealanything,howeverserious—letussee,theIslandofElbaisavolcano,andwemayexpecttohaveissuingthenceflamingandbristlingwar—bella,horridabella."M.Dandreleanedveryrespectfullyonthebackofachairwithhistwohands,andsaid—

           "Hasyourmajestyperusedyesterday’sreport?"

           "Yes,yes;buttellthedukehimself,whocannotfindanything,whatthereportcontains—givehimtheparticularsofwhattheusurperisdoinginhisislet."

           "Monsieur,"saidthebarontotheduke,"alltheservantsofhismajestymustapproveofthelatestintelligencewhichwehavefromtheIslandofElba.Bonaparte"—M.DandrelookedatLouisXVIII.,who,employedinwritinganote,didnotevenraisehishead."Bonaparte,"continuedthebaron,"ismortallywearied,andpasseswholedaysinwatchinghisminersatworkatPorto–Longone."

           "Andscratcheshimselfforamusement,"addedtheking.

           "Scratcheshimself?"inquiredtheduke,"whatdoesyourmajestymean?"

           "Yes,indeed,mydearduke.Didyouforgetthatthisgreatman,thishero,thisdemigod,isattackedwithamaladyoftheskinwhichworrieshimtodeath,prurigo?"

           "And,moreover,mydearduke,"continuedtheministerofpolice,"wearealmostassuredthat,inaveryshorttime,theusurperwillbeinsane."

           "Insane?"

           "Ravingmad;hisheadbecomesweaker.

Зміст книги
Налаштування
Фон сторінки
Розмір шрифту
Міжрядковий інтервал
Фразові дієслова
Показати / Приховати меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Сторінка 131 з 1932