Граф Монте-Крісто

Haidee.

           "

           "Haidee,"repliedthecount,"youknowthatyouarenowinFrance,andarefree."

           "Freetodowhat?"askedtheyounggirl.

           "Freetoleaveme."

           "Leaveyou?WhyshouldIleaveyou?"

           "Thatisnotformetosay;butwearenowabouttomixinsocietytovisitandbevisited."

           "Idon’twishtoseeanybodybutyou."

           "Andshouldyouseeonewhomyoucouldprefer,Iwouldnotbesounjust"—

           "IhaveneverseenanyoneIpreferredtoyou,andIhaveneverlovedanyonebutyouandmyfather."

           "Mypoorchild,"repliedMonteCristo,"thatismerelybecauseyourfatherandmyselfaretheonlymenwhohaveevertalkedtoyou."

           "Idon’twantanybodyelsetotalktome.MyfathersaidIwashis‘joy’—youstylemeyour‘love,’—andbothofyouhavecalledme‘mychild.’"

           "Doyourememberyourfather,Haidee?"TheyoungGreeksmiled."Heishere,andhere,"saidshe,touchinghereyesandherheart."AndwhereamI?"inquiredMonteCristolaughingly.

           "You?"criedshe,withtonesofthrillingtenderness,"youareeverywhere!"MonteCristotookthedelicatehandoftheyounggirlinhis,andwasabouttoraiseittohislips,whenthesimplechildofnaturehastilywithdrewit,andpresentedhercheek.

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