Граф Монте-Крісто

           ’—‘Particularlywhenthereismoneyinthehouse,eh?’answeredCaderousse,double-lockingthedoor.

           "Hecameintotheroom,wenttothecupboard,tookoutthebagandpocket-book,andbothbegan,forthethirdtime,tocounttheirgoldandbank-notes.Ineversawsuchanexpressionofcupidityastheflickeringlamprevealedinthosetwocountenances.Thewoman,especially,washideous;herusualfeverishtremulousnesswasintensified,hercountenancehadbecomelivid,andhereyesresembledburningcoals.‘Why,’sheinquiredinahoarsevoice,‘didyouinvitehimtosleephereto-night?’—‘Why?’saidCaderoussewithashudder;‘why,thathemightnothavethetroubleofreturningtoBeaucaire.’—‘Ah,’respondedthewoman,withanexpressionimpossibletodescribe;‘Ithoughtitwasforsomethingelse.’—‘Woman,woman—whydoyouhavesuchideas?’criedCaderousse;‘or,ifyouhavethem,whydon’tyoukeepthemtoyourself?’—‘Well,’saidLaCarconte,afteramoment’spause,‘youarenotaman.’—‘Whatdoyoumean?’addedCaderousse.—‘Ifyouhadbeenaman,youwouldnothavelethimgofromhere.’—‘Woman!’—‘OrelseheshouldnothavereachedBeaucaire.’—‘Woman!’—‘Theroadtakesaturn—heisobligedtofollowit—whilealongsideofthecanalthereisashorterroad.’—‘Woman!—youoffendthegoodGod