Граф Монте-Крісто

The Corsican Ogre.

           "Villefort’seyeswerefilledwithtearsofjoyandpride;hetookthecrossandkissedit.

           "Andnow,"hesaid,"mayIinquirewhataretheorderswithwhichyourmajestydeignstohonorme?"

           "Takewhatrestyourequire,andrememberthatifyouarenotabletoservemehereinParis,youmaybeofthegreatestservicetomeatMarseilles."

           "Sire,"repliedVillefort,bowing,"inanhourIshallhavequittedParis."

           "Go,sir,"saidtheking;"andshouldIforgetyou(kings’memoriesareshort),donotbeafraidtobringyourselftomyrecollection.Baron,sendfortheministerofwar.Blacas,remain."

           "Ah,sir,"saidtheministerofpolicetoVillefort,astheylefttheTuileries,"youenteredbyluck’sdooryourfortuneismade."

           "Willitbelongfirst?"mutteredVillefort,salutingtheminister,whosecareerwasended,andlookingabouthimforahackney-coach.Onepassedatthemoment,whichhehailed;hegavehisaddresstothedriver,andspringingin,threwhimselfontheseat,andgaveloosetodreamsofambition.

           TenminutesafterwardsVillefortreachedhishotel,orderedhorsestobereadyintwohours,andaskedtohavehisbreakfastbroughttohim.Hewasabouttobeginhisrepastwhenthesoundofthebellrangsharpandloud.Thevaletopenedthedoor,andVillefortheardsomeonespeakhisname.

           "WhocouldknowthatIwasherealready?"saidtheyoungman.Thevaletentered.

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