Граф Монте-Крісто

The Lemonade.

           "

           "Whynot?"

           "BecauseIfeelthatifyouwereonlytotouchmewiththetipofyourfingerthefitwouldreturn."

           "Drink."

           Barroistooktheglass,and,raisingittohispurplelips,tookabouthalfoftheliquidofferedhim."Wheredoyousuffer?"askedthedoctor.

           "Everywhere.Ifeelcrampsovermywholebody."

           "Doyoufindanydazzlingsensationbeforetheeyes?"

           "Yes."

           "Anynoiseintheears?"

           "Frightful."

           "Whendidyoufirstfeelthat?"

           "Justnow."

           "Suddenly?"

           "Yes,likeaclapofthunder."

           "Didyoufeelnothingofityesterdayorthedaybefore?"

           "Nothing."

           "Nodrowsiness?"

           "None."

           "Whathaveyoueatentoday?"

           "Ihaveeatennothing;Ionlydrankaglassofmymaster’slemonadethat’sall;"andBarroisturnedtowardsNoirtier,who,immovablyfixedinhisarm-chair,wascontemplatingthisterriblescenewithoutallowingawordoramovementtoescapehim.

           "Whereisthislemonade?"askedthedoctoreagerly.

           "Down-stairsinthedecanter."

           "Whereaboutsdownstairs?"

           "Inthekitchen."

           "ShallIgoandfetchit,doctor?"inquiredVillefort.

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