Граф Монте-Крісто

The Abbe’s Chamber.

           WhenIbecomequitemotionless,cold,andrigidasacorpse,then,andnotbeforebecarefulaboutthisforceopenmyteethwiththeknife,pourfromeighttotendropsoftheliquorcontainedinthephialdownmythroat,andImayperhapsrevive."

           "Perhaps!"exclaimedDantesingrief-strickentones.

           "Help!help!"criedtheabbe,"I—I—dieI"—

           Sosuddenandviolentwasthefitthattheunfortunateprisonerwasunabletocompletethesentence;aviolentconvulsionshookhiswholeframe,hiseyesstartedfromtheirsockets,hismouthwasdrawnononeside,hischeeksbecamepurple,hestruggled,foamed,dashedhimselfabout,andutteredthemostdreadfulcries,which,however,Dantespreventedfrombeingheardbycoveringhisheadwiththeblanket.Thefitlastedtwohours;then,morehelplessthananinfant,andcolderandpalerthanmarble,morecrushedandbrokenthanareedtrampledunderfoot,hefellback,doubledupinonelastconvulsion,andbecameasrigidasacorpse.

           Edmondwaitedtilllifeseemedextinctinthebodyofhisfriend,then,takinguptheknife,hewithdifficultyforcedopenthecloselyfixedjaws,carefullyadministeredtheappointednumberofdrops,andanxiouslyawaitedtheresult.Anhourpassedawayandtheoldmangavenosignofreturninganimation.Dantesbegantofearhehaddelayedtoolongereheadministeredtheremedy,and,thrustinghishandsintohishair,continuedgazingonthelifelessfeaturesofhisfriend.

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