Граф Монте-Крісто

Haidee.

           "TheyounggirlraisedhertearfuleyestowardsMonteCristoasshesaidwithtouchingearnestness,"WhetherwereturntotheEast,youmeantosay,mylord,doyounot?"

           "Mychild,"returnedMonteCristo"youknowfullwellthatwheneverwepart,itwillbenofaultorwishofmine;thetreeforsakesnottheflowertheflowerfallsfromthetree."

           "Mylord,"repliedHaidee,"Ineverwillleaveyou,forIamsureIcouldnotexistwithoutyou."

           "Mypoorgirl,intenyearsIshallbeold,andyouwillbestillyoung."

           "Myfatherhadalongwhitebeard,butIlovedhim;hewassixtyyearsold,buttomehewashandsomerthanallthefineyouthsIsaw."

           "Thentellme,Haidee,doyoubelieveyoushallbeabletoaccustomyourselftoourpresentmodeoflife?"

           "ShallIseeyou?"

           "Everyday."

           "Thenwhatdoyoufear,mylord?"

           "Youmightfinditdull."

           "No,mylord.Inthemorning,Ishallrejoiceintheprospectofyourcoming,andintheeveningdwellwithdelightonthehappinessIhaveenjoyedinyourpresence;thentoo,whenalone,Icancallforthmightypicturesofthepast,seevasthorizonsboundedonlybythetoweringmountainsofPindusandOlympus.Oh,believeme,thatwhenthreegreatpassions,suchassorrow,love,andgratitudefilltheheart,ennuicanfindnoplace

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