Граф Монте-Крісто

The Corsican Ogre.

           Ihave,duringthosefive-and-twentyyears,sparednopainstounderstandthepeopleofFranceandtheinterestswhichwereconfidedtome;andnow,whenIseethefruitionofmywishesalmostwithinreach,thepowerIholdinmyhandsbursts,andshattersmetoatoms!"

           "Sire,itisfatality!"murmuredtheminister,feelingthatthepressureofcircumstances,howeverlightathingtodestiny,wastoomuchforanyhumanstrengthtoendure.

           "Whatourenemiessayofusisthentrue.Wehavelearntnothing,forgottennothing!IfIwerebetrayedashewas,Iwouldconsolemyself;buttobeinthemidstofpersonselevatedbymyselftoplacesofhonor,whooughttowatchovermemorecarefullythanoverthemselvesformyfortuneistheirsbeforemetheywerenothingaftermetheywillbenothing,andperishmiserablyfromincapacityineptitude!Oh,yes,sir,youarerightitisfatality!"

           Theministerquailedbeforethisoutburstofsarcasm.M.deBlacaswipedthemoisturefromhisbrow.Villefortsmiledwithinhimself,forhefelthisincreasedimportance.

           "Tofall,"continuedKingLouis,whoatthefirstglancehadsoundedtheabyssonwhichthemonarchyhungsuspended"tofall,andlearnofthatfallbytelegraph!Oh,Iwouldrathermountthescaffoldofmybrother,LouisXVI.,thanthusdescendthestaircaseattheTuileriesdrivenawaybyridicule.

Зміст книги
Налаштування
Фон сторінки
Розмір шрифту
Міжрядковий інтервал
Фразові дієслова
Показати / Приховати меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Сторінка 143 з 1932