Граф Монте-Крісто

The Marriage–Feast.

           Hergrief,whichshehadhithertotriedtorestrain,nowburstoutinaviolentfitofhystericalsobbing.

           "Come,come,"saidtheoldman,"becomforted,mypoorchild;thereisstillhope!"

           "Hope!"repeatedDanglars.

           "Hope!"faintlymurmuredFernand,butthewordseemedtodieawayonhispaleagitatedlips,andaconvulsivespasmpassedoverhiscountenance.

           "Goodnews!goodnews!"shoutedforthoneofthepartystationedinthebalconyonthelookout."HerecomesM.Morrelback.Nodoubt,now,weshallhearthatourfriendisreleased!"

           Mercedesandtheoldmanrushedtomeettheshipownerandgreetedhimatthedoor.Hewasverypale.

           "Whatnews?"exclaimedageneralburstofvoices.

           "Alas,myfriends,"repliedM.Morrel,withamournfulshakeofhishead,"thethinghasassumedamoreseriousaspectthanIexpected."

           "Oh,indeedindeed,sir,heisinnocent!"sobbedforthMercedes.

           "ThatIbelieve!"answeredM.Morrel;"butstillheischarged"—

           "Withwhat?"inquiredtheelderDantes.

           "WithbeinganagentoftheBonapartistfaction!"Manyofourreadersmaybeabletorecollecthowformidablesuchanaccusationbecameintheperiodatwhichourstoryisdated.

           AdespairingcryescapedthepalelipsofMercedes;theoldmansankintoachair.

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Сторінка 67 з 1932