Граф Монте-Крісто

The House at Auteuil.

           "

           "Oh,donotdothat,excellency;Ihavealwaysservedyoufaithfully,"criedBertuccio,indespair."Ihavealwaysbeenanhonestman,and,asfaraslayinmypower,Ihavedonegood."

           "Idonotdenyit,"returnedthecount;"butwhyareyouthusagitated.Itisabadsign;aquietconsciencedoesnotoccasionsuchpalenessinthecheeks,andsuchfeverinthehandsofaman."

           "But,yourexcellency,"repliedBertucciohesitatingly,"didnottheAbbeBusoni,whoheardmyconfessionintheprisonatNimes,tellyouthatIhadaheavyburdenuponmyconscience?"

           "Yes;butashesaidyouwouldmakeanexcellentsteward,Iconcludedyouhadstolenthatwasall."

           "Oh,yourexcellency,"returnedBertuccioindeepcontempt.

           "Or,asyouareaCorsican,thatyouhadbeenunabletoresistthedesireofmakinga‘stiff,’asyoucallit."

           "Yes,mygoodmaster,"criedBertuccio,castinghimselfatthecount’sfeet,"itwassimplyvengeancenothingelse."

           "Iunderstandthat,butIdonotunderstandwhatitisthatgalvanizesyouinthismanner."

           "But,monsieur,itisverynatural,"returnedBertuccio,"sinceitwasinthishousethatmyvengeancewasaccomplished."

           "What!myhouse?"

           "Oh,yourexcellency,itwasnotyours,then."

           "Whose,then?TheMarquisdeSaint–Meran,Ithink,theconciergesaid.

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