Граф Монте-Крісто

Valentine.

           "WhatcanIdoforyou,Valentine?"Valentinelookedaroundher;shesawthedeepestterrordepictedinNoirtier’seyes."Don’tworry,deargrandpapa,"saidshe,endeavoringtosmile;"itisnothingitisnothing;Iwasgiddy,thatisall."

           "Anotherattackofgiddiness,"saidMorrel,claspinghishands."Oh,attendtoit,Valentine,Ientreatyou."

           "Butno,"saidValentine"no,Itellyouitisallpast,anditwasnothing.Now,letmetellyousomenews;Eugenieistobemarriedinaweek,andinthreedaysthereistobeagrandfeast,abetrothalfestival.Weareallinvited,myfather,MadamedeVillefort,andI—atleast,Iunderstooditso."

           "Whenwillitbeourturntothinkofthesethings?Oh,Valentine,youwhohavesomuchinfluenceoveryourgrandpapa,trytomakehimanswerSoon."

           "Anddoyou,"saidValentine,"dependonmetostimulatethetardinessandarousethememoryofgrandpapa?"

           "Yes,"criedMorrel,"makehaste.Solongasyouarenotmine,Valentine,IshallalwaysthinkImayloseyou."

           "Oh,"repliedValentinewithaconvulsivemovement,"oh,indeed,Maximilian,youaretootimidforanofficer,forasoldierwho,theysay,neverknowsfear.Ah,ha,ha!"sheburstintoaforcedandmelancholylaugh,herarmsstiffenedandtwisted,herheadfellbackonherchair,andsheremainedmotionless.ThecryofterrorwhichwasstoppedonNoirtier’slips,seemedtostartfromhiseyes

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