Граф Монте-Крісто

The Catacombs of Saint Sebastian.

           

           "Youareright,yourexcellency,"hesaid;"thismustbeoneofyourfriends."ThengoingtoAlbert,hetouchedhimontheshoulder,saying,"Willyourexcellencypleasetoawaken?"Albertstretchedouthisarms,rubbedhiseyelids,andopenedhiseyes."Oh,"saidhe,"isityou,captain?Youshouldhaveallowedmetosleep.Ihadsuchadelightfuldream.IwasdancingthegalopatTorlonia’swiththeCountessG."Thenhedrewhiswatchfromhispocket,thathemightseehowtimesped.

           "Half-pastoneonly?"saidhe."Whythedevildoyourousemeatthishour?"

           "Totellyouthatyouarefree,yourexcellency."

           "Mydearfellow,"repliedAlbert,withperfecteaseofmind,"remember,forthefuture,Napoleon’smaxim,‘Neverawakenmebutforbadnews;’ifyouhadletmesleepon,Ishouldhavefinishedmygalop,andhavebeengratefultoyouallmylife.So,then,theyhavepaidmyransom?"

           "No,yourexcellency."

           "Well,then,howamIfree?"

           "ApersontowhomIcanrefusenothinghascometodemandyou."

           "Comehither?"

           "Yes,hither."

           "Really?Thenthatpersonisamostamiableperson."AlbertlookedaroundandperceivedFranz."What,"saidhe,"isityou,mydearFranz,whosedevotionandfriendshiparethusdisplayed?"

           "No,notI,"repliedFranz,"butourneighbor,theCountofMonteCristo.

Зміст книги
Налаштування
Фон сторінки
Розмір шрифту
Міжрядковий інтервал
Фразові дієслова
Показати / Приховати меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Сторінка 661 з 1932