Граф Монте-Крісто

The Journey.

           Hisvoicehadbecomeroughandhoarse;hisfacewasfurrowedwithwrinkles;hiseyesburnedundertheblue-veinedlids,andhetotteredlikeadrunkenman."Count,"saidhe,"Ithankyouforyourhospitality,whichIwouldgladlyhaveenjoyedlonger;butImustreturntoParis."

           "Whathashappened?"

           "Agreatmisfortune,moreimportanttomethanlife.Don’tquestionme,Ibegofyou,butlendmeahorse."

           "Mystablesareatyourcommand,viscount;butyouwillkillyourselfbyridingonhorseback.Takeapost-chaiseoracarriage."

           "No,itwoulddelayme,andIneedthefatigueyouwarnmeof;itwilldomegood."Albertreeledasifhehadbeenshot,andfellonachairnearthedoor.MonteCristodidnotseethissecondmanifestationofphysicalexhaustion;hewasatthewindow,calling,"Ali,ahorseforM.deMorcerfquick!heisinahurry!"ThesewordsrestoredAlbert;hedartedfromtheroom,followedbythecount."Thankyou!"criedhe,throwinghimselfonhishorse."Returnassoonasyoucan,Florentin.MustIuseanypasswordtoprocureahorse?"

           "Onlydismount;anotherwillbeimmediatelysaddled."Alberthesitatedamoment."Youmaythinkmydeparturestrangeandfoolish,"saidtheyoungman;"youdonotknowhowaparagraphinanewspapermayexasperateone.Readthat,"saidhe,"whenIamgone,thatyoumaynotbewitnessofmyanger

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Сторінка 1495 з 1932