Граф Монте-Крісто

The Catalans.

           "

           "Ifhehasforgottenyou"—

           "Mercedes!"calledajoyousvoicefromwithout"Mercedes!"

           "Ah,"exclaimedtheyounggirl,blushingwithdelight,andfairlyleapinginexcessoflove,"youseehehasnotforgottenme,forhereheis!"Andrushingtowardsthedoor,sheopenedit,saying,"Here,Edmond,hereIam!"

           Fernand,paleandtrembling,drewback,likeatravelleratthesightofaserpent,andfellintoachairbesidehim.EdmondandMercedeswereclaspedineachother’sarms.TheburningMarseillessun,whichshotintotheroomthroughtheopendoor,coveredthemwithafloodoflight.Atfirsttheysawnothingaroundthem.Theirintensehappinessisolatedthemfromalltherestoftheworld,andtheyonlyspokeinbrokenwords,whicharethetokensofajoysoextremethattheyseemrathertheexpressionofsorrow.SuddenlyEdmondsawthegloomy,pale,andthreateningcountenanceofFernand,asitwasdefinedintheshadow.Byamovementforwhichhecouldscarcelyaccounttohimself,theyoungCatalanplacedhishandontheknifeathisbelt.

           "Ah,yourpardon,"saidDantes,frowninginhisturn;"Ididnotperceivethattherewerethreeofus."Then,turningtoMercedes,heinquired,"Whoisthisgentleman?"

           "Onewhowillbeyourbestfriend,Dantes,forheismyfriend,mycousin,mybrother;itisFernandthemanwhom,afteryou,Edmond,Ilovethebestintheworld.

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Сторінка 31 з 1932