Граф Монте-Крісто

The Breakfast.

           

           "Tobesure;besides,everymillionaireisasnobleasabastardthatis,hecanbe."

           "Donotsaythat,Debray,"returnedBeauchamp,laughing,"forhereisChateau–Renaud,who,tocureyouofyourmaniaforparadoxes,willpasstheswordofRenauddeMontauban,hisancestor,throughyourbody."

           "Hewillsullyitthen,"returnedLucien;"forIamlowverylow."

           "Oh,heavens,"criedBeauchamp,"theministerquotesBeranger,whatshallwecometonext?"

           "M.deChateau–RenaudM.MaximilianMorrel,"saidtheservant,announcingtwofreshguests.

           "Now,then,tobreakfast,"saidBeauchamp;"for,ifIremember,youtoldmeyouonlyexpectedtwopersons,Albert."

           "Morrel,"mutteredAlbert—"Morrelwhoishe?"Butbeforehehadfinished,M.deChateau–Renaud,ahandsomeyoungmanofthirty,gentlemanalloverthatis,withthefigureofaGuicheandthewitofaMortemarttookAlbert’shand."MydearAlbert,"saidhe,"letmeintroducetoyouM.MaximilianMorrel,captainofSpahis,myfriend;andwhatismorehoweverthemanspeaksforhimselfmypreserver.Salutemyhero,viscount."Andhesteppedononesidetogiveplacetoayoungmanofrefinedanddignifiedbearing,withlargeandopenbrow,piercingeyes,andblackmustache,whomourreadershavealreadyseenatMarseilles,undercircumstancessufficientlydramaticnottobeforgotten.

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