Граф Монте-Крісто

The Guests.

           Albertthrewhimselfonthedivan,toreoffthecoveroftwoorthreeofthepapers,lookedatthetheatreannouncements,madeafaceseeingtheygaveanopera,andnotaballet;huntedvainlyamongsttheadvertisementsforanewtooth-powderofwhichhehadheard,andthrewdown,oneaftertheother,thethreeleadingpapersofParis,muttering,"Thesepapersbecomemoreandmorestupideveryday."Amomentafter,acarriagestoppedbeforethedoor,andtheservantannouncedM.LucienDebray.Atallyoungman,withlighthair,cleargrayeyes,andthinandcompressedlips,dressedinabluecoatwithbeautifullycarvedgoldbuttons,awhiteneckcloth,andatortoiseshelleye-glasssuspendedbyasilkenthread,andwhich,byaneffortofthesuperciliaryandzygomaticmuscles,hefixedinhiseye,entered,withahalf-officialair,withoutsmilingorspeaking."Good-morning,Lucien,good-morning,"saidAlbert;"yourpunctualityreallyalarmsme.WhatdoIsay?punctuality!You,whomIexpectedlast,youarriveatfiveminutestoten,whenthetimefixedwashalf-past!Hastheministryresigned?"

           "No,mydearfellow,"returnedtheyoungman,seatinghimselfonthedivan;"reassureyourself;wearetotteringalways,butweneverfall,andIbegintobelievethatweshallpassintoastateofimmobility,andthentheaffairsofthePeninsulawillcompletelyconsolidateus."

           "Ah,true;youdriveDonCarlosoutofSpain."

           "No,no,mydearfellow,donotconfoundourplans.

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