Граф Монте-Крісто

The Cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise.

           

           "Ibegathousandpardons,"saidthecount,"thereisnothingthematter,butIslippeddownandbrokeoneofyourpanesofglasswithmyelbow.Sinceitisopened,Iwilltakeadvantageofittoenteryourroom;donotdisturbyourselfdonotdisturbyourself!"Andpassinghishandthroughthebrokenglass,thecountopenedthedoor.Morrel,evidentlydiscomposed,cametomeetMonteCristolesswiththeintentionofreceivinghimthantoexcludehisentry."Mafoi,"saidMonteCristo,rubbinghiselbow,"it’sallyourservant’sfault;yourstairsaresopolished,itislikewalkingonglass."

           "Areyouhurt,sir?"coldlyaskedMorrel.

           "Ibelievenot.Butwhatareyouaboutthere?Youwerewriting."

           "I?"

           "Yourfingersarestainedwithink."

           "Ah,true,Iwaswriting.Idosometimes,soldierthoughIam."

           MonteCristoadvancedintotheroom;Maximilianwasobligedtolethimpass,buthefollowedhim."Youwerewriting?"saidMonteCristowithasearchinglook.

           "IhavealreadyhadthehonoroftellingyouIwas,"saidMorrel.

           Thecountlookedaroundhim."Yourpistolsarebesideyourdesk,"saidMonteCristo,pointingwithhisfingertothepistolsonthetable.

           "Iamonthepointofstartingonajourney,"repliedMorreldisdainfully.

           "Myfriend,"exclaimedMonteCristoinatoneofexquisitesweetness.

Зміст книги
Налаштування
Фон сторінки
Розмір шрифту
Міжрядковий інтервал
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Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Сторінка 1751 з 1932