Граф Монте-Крісто

Number 34 and Number 27.

           Whatunforseeneventsmightnotopenhisprisondoor,andrestorehimtoliberty?Thenheraisedtohislipstherepastthat,likeavoluntaryTantalus,herefusedhimself;buthethoughtofhisoath,andhewouldnotbreakit.Hepersisteduntil,atlast,hehadnotsufficientstrengthtoriseandcasthissupperoutoftheloophole.Thenextmorninghecouldnotseeorhear;thejailerfearedhewasdangerouslyill.Edmondhopedhewasdying.

           Thusthedaypassedaway.Edmondfeltasortofstuporcreepingoverhimwhichbroughtwithitafeelingalmostofcontent;thegnawingpainathisstomachhadceased;histhirsthadabated;whenheclosedhiseyeshesawmyriadsoflightsdancingbeforethemlikethewill-o’-the-wispsthatplayaboutthemarshes.ItwasthetwilightofthatmysteriouscountrycalledDeath!

           Suddenly,aboutnineo’clockintheevening,Edmondheardahollowsoundinthewallagainstwhichhewaslying.

           Somanyloathsomeanimalsinhabitedtheprison,thattheirnoisedidnot,ingeneral,awakehim;butwhetherabstinencehadquickenedhisfaculties,orwhetherthenoisewasreallylouderthanusual,Edmondraisedhisheadandlistened.Itwasacontinualscratching,asifmadebyahugeclaw,apowerfultooth,orsomeironinstrumentattackingthestones.

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Сторінка 194 з 1932