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,whooughttowatchovermemorecarefullythanoverthemselves—formyfortuneistheirs—beforemetheywerenothing—aftermetheywillbenothing,andperishmiserablyfromincapacity—ineptitude!Oh,yes,sir,youareright—itisfatality!"

           Theministerquailedbeforethisoutburstofsarcasm.M.deBlacaswipedthemoisturefromhisbrow.Villefortsmiledwithinhimself,forhefelthisincreasedimportance.

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

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Roboto Lora
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Сторінка 143 з 1932