Граф Монте-Крісто

The Insult.

           ButMonteCristo,withoutrising,andleaningforwardinhischair,merelystretchedouthisarmand,takingthedamp,crushedglovefromtheclinchedhandoftheyoungman,"Sir,"saidheinasolemntone,"Iconsideryourglovethrown,andwillreturnittoyouwrappedaroundabullet.NowleavemeorIwillsummonmyservantstothrowyououtatthedoor."

           Wild,almostunconscious,andwitheyesinflamed,Albertsteppedback,andMorrelclosedthedoor.MonteCristotookuphisglassagainasifnothinghadhappened;hisfacewaslikemarble,andhisheartwaslikebronze.Morrelwhispered,"Whathaveyoudonetohim?"

           "I?Nothingatleastpersonally,"saidMonteCristo.

           "Buttheremustbesomecauseforthisstrangescene."

           "TheCountofMorcerf’sadventureexasperatestheyoungman."

           "Haveyouanythingtodowithit?"

           "ItwasthroughHaideethattheChamberwasinformedofhisfather’streason."

           "Indeed?"saidMorrel."Ihadbeentold,butwouldnotcreditit,thattheGrecianslaveIhaveseenwithyouhereinthisveryboxwasthedaughterofAliPasha."

           "Itistrue,nevertheless."

           "Then,"saidMorrel,"Iunderstanditall,andthisscenewaspremeditated."

           "Howso?"

           "Yes.Albertwrotetorequestmetocometotheopera,doubtlessthatImightbeawitnesstotheinsulthemeanttoofferyou.

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