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-- Page 240-- 已完场赔率 比分赔率%E4%B8%AD%E5%9B%BD%E9%93%B6%E8%A1%8C%E4%B8%9A%E7%9B%91%E7%9D%A3%E7%AE%A1%E7%90%86%E5%A7%94%E5%91%98%E4%BC%9A%E8%A5%BF%E8%97%8F%E7%9B%91%E7%AE%A1%E5%B1%80%E4%B8%AD%E5%9B%BD%E9%93%B6%E8%A1%8C%E4%B8%9A%E7%9B%91%E7%9D%A3%E7%AE%A1%E7%90%86%E5%A7%94%E5%91%98%E4%BC%9A%E9%99%95%E8%A5%BF%E7%9B%91%E7%AE%A1%E5%B1%80%E4%B8%AD%E5%9B%BD%E9%93%B6%E8%A1%8C%E4%B8%9A%E7%9B%91%E7%9D%A3%E7%AE%A1%E7%90%86%E5%A7%94%E5%91%98%E4%BC%9A%E7%94%98%E8%82%83%E7%9B%91%E7%AE%A1%E5%B1%80%E4%B8%AD%E5%9B%BD%E9%93%B6%E8%A1%8C%E4%B8%9A%E7%9B%91%E7%9D%A3%E7%AE%A1%E7%90%86%E5%A7%94%E5%91%98%E4%BC%9A%E9%9D%92%E6%B5%B7%E7%9B%91%E7%AE%A1%E5%B1%80 Chapter 12 88 lost." "Yes, but they have found a corpse; the general has been killed, and in all countries they call that a murder." "A murder do you call it? why, there is nothing to prove that the general was murdered. People are found every day in the Seine, having thrown themselves in, or having been drowned from not knowing how to swim." "Father, you know very well that the general was not a man to drown himself in despair, and people do not bathe in the Seine in the month of January. No, no, do not be deceived; this was murder in every sense of the word." "And who thus designated it?" "The king himself." "The king! I thought he was philosopher enough to allow that there was no murder in politics. In politics, my dear fellow, you know, as well as I do, there are no men, but ideas -- no feelings, but interests; in politics we do not kill a man, we only remove an obstacle, that is all. Would you like to know how matters have progressed? Well, I will tell you. It was thought reliance might be placed in General Quesnel; he was recommended to us from the Island of Elba; one of us went to him, and invited him to the Rue Saint-Jacques, where he would find some friends. He came there, and the plan was unfolded to him for leaving Elba, the projected landing, etc. When he had heard and comprehended all to the fullest extent, he replied that he was a royalist. Then all looked at each other, -- he was made to take an oath, and did so, but with such an ill grace that it was really tempting Providence to swear him, and yet, in spite of that, the general was allowed to depart free -- perfectly free. Yet he did not return home. What could that mean? why, my dear fellow, that on leaving us he lost his way, that's all. A murder? really, Villefort, you surprise me. You, a deputy procureur, to found an accusation on such bad premises! Did I ever say to you, when you were fulfilling your character as a royalist, and cut off the head of one of my party, `My son, you have committed a murder?' No, I said, `Very well, sir, you have gained the victory; to-morrow, perchance, it will be our turn.'" "But, father, take care; when our turn comes, our revenge will be sweeping." "I do not understand you." "You rely on the usurper's return?" "We do." "You are mistaken; he will not advance two leagues into the interior of France without being followed, tracked, and caught like a wild beast." "My dear fellow, the emperor is at this moment on the way to Grenoble; on the 10th or 12th he will be at Lyons, and on the 20th or 25th at Paris." "The people will rise." "Yes, to go and meet him." "He has but a handful of men with him, and armies will be despatched against him." "Yes, to escort him into the capital. Really, my dear Gerard, you are but a child; you think yourself well 已完场赔率 比分赔率-- Page 337-- Chapter 37 277 left in Franz's mind a certain depression which was not free from uneasiness. He therefore dined very silently, in spite of the officious attention of his host, who presented himself two or three times to inquire if he wanted anything. Franz resolved to wait for Albert as late as possible. He ordered the carriage, therefore, for eleven o'clock, desiring Signor Pastrini to inform him the moment that Albert returned to the hotel. At eleven o'clock Albert had not come back. Franz dressed himself, and went out, telling his host that he was going to pass the night at the Duke of Bracciano's. The house of the Duke of Bracciano is one of the most delightful in Rome, the duchess, one of the last heiresses of the Colonnas, does its honors with the most consummate grace, and thus their fetes have a European celebrity. Franz and Albert had brought to Rome letters of introduction to them, and their first question on his arrival was to inquire the whereabouts of his travelling companion. Franz replied that he had left him at the moment they were about to extinguish the moccoli, and that he had lost sight of him in the Via Macello. "Then he has not returned?" said the duke. "I waited for him until this hour," replied Franz. "And do you know whither he went?" "No, not precisely; however, I think it was something very like a rendezvous." "Diavolo!" said the duke, "this is a bad day, or rather a bad night, to be out late; is it not, countess!" These words were addressed to the Countess G---- , who had just arrived, and was leaning on the arm of Signor Torlonia, the duke's brother. "I think, on the contrary, that it is a charming night," replied the countess, "and those who are here will complain of but one thing -- its too rapid flight." "I am not speaking," said the duke with a smile, "of the persons who are here; the men run no other danger than that of falling in love with you, and the women of falling ill of jealousy at seeing you so lovely; I meant persons who were out in the streets of Rome." "Ah," asked the countess, "who is out in the streets of Rome at this hour, unless it be to go to a ball?" "Our friend, Albert de Morcerf, countess, whom I left in pursuit of his unknown about seven o'clock this evening," said Franz, "and whom I have not seen since." "And don't you know where he is?" "Not at all." "Is he armed?" "He is in masquerade." "You should not have allowed him to go," said the duke to Franz; "you, who know Rome better than he does." "You might as well have tried to stop number three of the barberi, who gained the prize in the race to-day," replied Franz; "and then moreover, what could happen to him?" "Who can tell? The night is gloomy, and the Tiber is very near the Via Macello." Franz felt a shudder run through his veins at observing that the feeling of the duke and the countess was so much in unison with his own personal disquietude. "I informed them at the hotel that I had the honor of passing the night here, duke," 已完场赔率 比分赔率-- Page 335--

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Chapter 29 193 pocket; read the examination, and saw that the name of Noirtier was not mentioned in it; perused, too, the application dated 10th April, 1815, in which Morrel, by the deputy procureur's advice, exaggerated with the best intentions (for Napoleon was then on the throne) the services Dantes had rendered to the imperial cause -- services which Villefort's certificates rendered indispensable. Then he saw through the whole thing. This petition to Napoleon, kept back by Villefort, had become, under the second restoration, a terrible weapon against him in the hands of the king's attorney. He was no longer astonished when he searched on to find in the register this note, placed in a bracket against his name: -- Edmond Dantes. An inveterate Bonapartist; took an active part in the return from the Island of Elba. To be kept in strict solitary confinement, and to be closely watched and guarded. Beneath these lines was written in another hand: "See note above -- nothing can be done." He compared the writing in the bracket with the writing of the certificate placed beneath Morrel's petition, and discovered that the note in the bracket was the same writing as the certificate -- that is to say, was in Villefort's handwriting. As to the note which accompanied this, the Englishman understood that it might have been added by some inspector who had taken a momentary interest in Dantes' situation, but who had, from the remarks we have quoted, found it impossible to give any effect to the interest he had felt. As we have said, the inspector, from discretion, and that he might not disturb the Abbe Faria's pupil in his researches, had seated himself in a corner, and was reading Le Drapeau Blanc. He did not see the Englishman fold up and place in his pocket the accusation written by Danglars under the arbor of La Reserve, and which had the postmark, "Marseilles, 27th Feb., delivery 6 o'clock, P.M." But it must be said that if he had seen it, he attached so little importance to this scrap of paper, and so much importance to his two hundred thousand francs, that he would not have opposed whatever the Englishman might do, however irregular it might be. "Thanks," said the latter, closing the register with a slam, "I have all I want; now it is for me to perform my promise. Give me a simple assignment of your debt; acknowledge therein the receipt of the cash, and I will hand you over the money." He rose, gave his seat to M. de Boville, who took it without ceremony, and quickly drew up the required assignment, while the Englishman counted out the bank-notes on the other side of the desk. Chapter 29 The House of Morrel & Son. Any one who had quitted Marseilles a few years previously, well acquainted with the interior of Morrel's warehouse, and had returned at this date, would have found a great change. Instead of that air of life, of comfort, and of happiness that permeates a flourishing and prosperous business establishment -- instead of merry faces at the windows, busy clerks hurrying to and fro in the long corridors -- instead of the court filled with bales of goods, re-echoing with the cries and the jokes of porters, one would have immediately perceived all aspect of sadness and gloom. Out of all the numerous clerks that used to fill the deserted corridor and the empty office, but two remained. One was a young man of three or four and twenty, who was in love with M. Morrel's daughter, and had remained with him in spite of the efforts of his friends to induce him to withdraw; the other was an old one-eyed cashier, called "Cocles," or "Cock-eye," a nickname given him by the young men who used to throng this vast now almost deserted bee-hive, and which had so completely replaced his 已完场赔率 比分赔率Chapter 9 72 "To the king?" "Yes." "I dare not write to his majesty." "I do not ask you to write to his majesty, but ask M. de Salvieux to do so. I want a letter that will enable me to reach the king's presence without all the formalities of demanding an audience; that would occasion a loss of precious time." "But address yourself to the keeper of the seals; he has the right of entry at the Tuileries, and can procure you audience at any hour of the day or night." "Doubtless; but there is no occasion to divide the honors of my discovery with him. The keeper would leave me in the background, and take all the glory to himself. I tell you, marquis, my fortune is made if I only reach the Tuileries the first, for the king will not forget the service I do him." "In that case go and get ready. I will call Salvieux and make him write the letter." "Be as quick as possible, I must be on the road in a quarter of an hour." "Tell your coachman to stop at the door." "You will present my excuses to the marquise and Mademoiselle Renee, whom I leave on such a day with great regret." "You will find them both here, and can make your farewells in person." "A thousand thanks -- and now for the letter." The marquis rang, a servant entered. "Say to the Comte de Salvieux that I would like to see him." "Now, then, go," said the marquis. "I shall be gone only a few moments." Villefort hastily quitted the apartment, but reflecting that the sight of the deputy procureur running through the streets would be enough to throw the whole city into confusion, he resumed his ordinary pace. At his door he perceived a figure in the shadow that seemed to wait for him. It was Mercedes, who, hearing no news of her lover, had come unobserved to inquire after him. As Villefort drew near, she advanced and stood before him. Dantes had spoken of Mercedes, and Villefort instantly recognized her. Her beauty and high bearing surprised him, and when she inquired what had become of her lover, it seemed to him that she was the judge, and he the accused. "The young man you speak of," said Villefort abruptly, "is a great criminal. and I can do nothing for him, mademoiselle." Mercedes burst into tears, and, as Villefort strove to pass her, again addressed him. "But, at least, tell me where he is, that I may know whether he is alive or dead," said she. -- Page 174-- 已完场赔率 比分赔率-- Page 337-- Chapter 21 152 perhaps, to reach the vessel -- certainly to return to shore, should he be unsuccessful in attracting attention. Dantes, though almost sure as to what course the vessel would take, had yet watched it anxiously until it tacked and stood towards him. Then he advanced; but before they could meet, the vessel again changed her course. By a violent effort he rose half out of the water, waving his cap, and uttering a loud shout peculiar to sailers. This time he was both seen and heard, and the tartan instantly steered towards him. At the same time, he saw they were about to lower the boat. An instant after, the boat, rowed by two men, advanced rapidly towards him. Dantes let go of the timber, which he now thought to be useless, and swam vigorously to meet them. But he had reckoned too much upon his strength, and then he realized how serviceable the timber had been to him. His arms became stiff, his legs lost their flexibility, and he was almost breathless. He shouted again. The two sailors redoubled their efforts, and one of them cried in Italian, "Courage!" The word reached his ear as a wave which he no longer had the strength to surmount passed over his head. He rose again to the surface, struggled with the last desperate effort of a drowning man, uttered a third cry, and felt himself sinking, as if the fatal cannon shot were again tied to his feet. The water passed over his head, and the sky turned gray. A convulsive movement again brought him to the surface. He felt himself seized by the hair, then he saw and heard nothing. He had fainted. When he opened his eyes Dantes found himself on the deck of the tartan. His first care was to see what course they were taking. They were rapidly leaving the Chateau d'If behind. Dantes was so exhausted that the exclamation of joy he uttered was mistaken for a sigh. As we have said, he was lying on the deck. A sailor was rubbing his limbs with a woollen cloth; another, whom he recognized as the one who had cried out "Courage!" held a gourd full of rum to his mouth; while the third, an old sailer, at once the pilot and captain, looked on with that egotistical pity men feel for a misfortune that they have escaped yesterday, and which may overtake them to-morrow. A few drops of the rum restored suspended animation, while the friction of his limbs restored their elasticity. "Who are you?" said the pilot in bad French. "I am," replied Dantes, in bad Italian, "a Maltese sailor. We were coming from Syracuse laden with grain. The storm of last night overtook us at Cape Morgion, and we were wrecked on these rocks." "Where do you come from?" "From these rocks that I had the good luck to cling to while our captain and the rest of the crew were all lost. I saw your vessel, and fearful of being left to perish on the desolate island, I swam off on a piece of wreckage to try and intercept your course. You have saved my life, and I thank you," continued Dantes. "I was lost when one of your sailors caught hold of my hair." "It was I," said a sailor of a frank and manly appearance; "and it was time, for you were sinking." "Yes," returned Dantes, holding out his hand, "I thank you again." "I almost hesitated, though," replied the sailor; "you looked more like a brigand than an honest man, with your beard six inches, and your hair a foot long." Dantes recollected that his hair and beard had not been cut all the time he was at the Chateau d'If. 已完场赔率 比分赔率-- Page 247--

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%E5%88%B6%E5%AE%9A%E6%9C%89%E5%85%B3%E9%93%B6%E8%A1%8C%E4%B8%9A%E9%87%91%E8%9E%8D%E6%9C%BA%E6%9E%84%E7%9B%91%E7%AE%A1%E7%9A%84%E8%A7%84%E7%AB%A0%E5%88%B6%E5%BA%A6%E5%92%8C%E5%8A%9E%E6%B3%95%EF%BC%9B%E8%B5%B7%E8%8D%89%E6%9C%89%E5%85%B3%E6%B3%95%E5%BE%8B%E5%92%8C%E8%A1%8C%E6%94%BF%E6%B3%95%E8%A7%84%EF%BC%8C%E6%8F%90%E5%87%BA%E5%88%B6%E5%AE%9A%E5%92%8C%E4%BF%AE%E6%94%B9%E7%9A%84%E5%BB%BA%E8%AE%AE%E3%80%82%E5%AE%A1%E6%89%B9%E9%93%B6%E8%A1%8C%E4%B8%9A%E9%87%91%E8%9E%8D%E6%9C%BA%E6%9E%84%E5%8F%8A%E5%85%B6%E5%88%86%E6%94%AF%E6%9C%BA%E6%9E%84%E7%9A%84%E8%AE%BE%E7%AB%8B%E3%80%81%E5%8F%98%E6%9B%B4%E3%80%81%E7%BB%88%E6%AD%A2%E5%8F%8A%E5%85%B6%E4%B8%9A%E5%8A%A1%E8%8C%83%E5%9B%B4%E3%80%82 已完场赔率 比分赔率-- Page 226-- Chapter 24 164 weeds had grown there, moss had clung to the stones, myrtle-bushes had taken root, and the old rock seemed fixed to the earth. Dantes dug away the earth carefully, and detected, or fancied he detected, the ingenious artifice. He attacked this wall, cemented by the hand of time, with his pickaxe. After ten minutes' labor the wall gave way, and a hole large enough to insert the arm was opened. Dantes went and cut the strongest olive-tree he could find, stripped off its branches, inserted it in the hole, and used it as a lever. But the rock was too heavy, and too firmly wedged, to be moved by any one man, were he Hercules himself. Dantes saw that he must attack the wedge. But how? He cast his eyes around, and saw the horn full of powder which his friend Jacopo had left him. He smiled; the infernal invention would serve him for this purpose. With the aid of his pickaxe, Dantes, after the manner of a labor-saving pioneer, dug a mine between the upper rock and the one that supported it, filled it with powder, then made a match by rolling his handkerchief in saltpetre. He lighted it and retired. The explosion soon followed; the upper rock was lifted from its base by the terrific force of the powder; the lower one flew into pieces; thousands of insects escaped from the aperture Dantes had previously formed, and a huge snake, like the guardian demon of the treasure, rolled himself along in darkening coils, and disappeared. Dantes approached the upper rock, which now, without any support, leaned towards the sea. The intrepid treasure-seeker walked round it, and, selecting the spot from whence it appeared most susceptible to attack, placed his lever in one of the crevices, and strained every nerve to move the mass. The rock, already shaken by the explosion, tottered on its base. Dantes redoubled his efforts; he seemed like one of the ancient Titans, who uprooted the mountains to hurl against the father of the gods. The rock yielded, rolled over, bounded from point to point, and finally disappeared in the ocean. On the spot it had occupied was a circular space, exposing an iron ring let into a square flag-stone. Dantes uttered a cry of joy and surprise; never had a first attempt been crowned with more perfect success. He would fain have continued, but his knees trembled, and his heart beat so violently, and his sight became so dim, that he was forced to pause. This feeling lasted but for a moment. Edmond inserted his lever in the ring and exerted all his strength; the flag-stone yielded, and disclosed steps that descended until they were lost in the obscurity of a subterraneous grotto. Any one else would have rushed on with a cry of joy. Dantes turned pale, hesitated, and reflected. "Come," said he to himself, "be a man. I am accustomed to adversity. I must not be cast down by the discovery that I have been deceived. What, then, would be the use of all I have suffered? The heart breaks when, after having been elated by flattering hopes, it sees all its illusions destroyed. Faria has dreamed this; the Cardinal Spada buried no treasure here; perhaps he never came here, or if he did, Caesar Borgia, the intrepid adventurer, the stealthy and indefatigable plunderer, has followed him, discovered his traces, pursued them as I have done, raised the stone, and descending before me, has left me nothing." He remained motionless and pensive, his eyes fixed on the gloomy aperture that was open at his feet. "Now that I expect nothing, now that I no longer entertain the slightest hopes, the end of this adventure becomes simply a matter of curiosity." And he remained again motionless and thoughtful. "Yes, yes; this is an adventure worthy a place in the varied career of that royal bandit. This fabulous event formed but a link in a long chain of marvels. Yes, Borgia has been here, a torch in one hand, a sword in the other, and within twenty paces, at the foot of this rock, perhaps two guards kept watch on land and sea, while their master descended, as I am about to descend, dispelling the darkness before his awe-inspiring progress." "But what was the fate of the guards who thus possessed his secret?" asked Dantes of himself. "The fate," replied he, smiling, "of those who buried Alaric." "Yet, had he come," thought Dantes, "he would have found the treasure, and Borgia, he who compared Italy to an artichoke, which he could devour leaf by leaf, knew too well the value of time to waste it in replacing this rock. I will go down." 已完场赔率 比分赔率-- Page 199-- %E5%AE%9E%E9%99%85%E7%BB%8F%E8%90%A5%E6%9C%9F%E6%9C%AA%E8%B6%85%E8%BF%873%E4%B8%AA%E6%9C%88%E7%9A%84%E4%BF%9D%E9%99%A9%E5%85%AC%E5%8F%B8%E5%B9%B4%E5%BA%A6%E8%B4%A2%E5%8A%A1%E4%BC%9A%E8%AE%A1%E6%8A%A5%E5%91%8A%E5%8F%AF%E4%BB%A5%E4%B8%8D%E7%BB%8F%E5%AE%A1%E8%AE%A1%E3%80%82%E7%AC%AC%E5%8D%81%E4%B8%89%E6%9D%A1++%E4%BF%9D%E9%99%A9%E5%85%AC%E5%8F%B8%E6%8A%AB%E9%9C%B2%E7%9A%84%E4%B8%8A%E4%B8%80%E5%B9%B4%E5%BA%A6%E4%BF%9D%E9%99%A9%E8%B4%A3%E4%BB%BB%E5%87%86%E5%A4%87%E9%87%91%E4%BF%A1%E6%81%AF%E5%8C%85%E6%8B%AC%E5%87%86%E5%A4%87%E9%87%91%E8%AF%84%E4%BC%B0%E6%96%B9%E9%9D%A2%E7%9A%84%E5%AE%9A%E6%80%A7%E4%BF%A1%E6%81%AF%E5%92%8C%E5%AE%9A%E9%87%8F%E4%BF%A1%E6%81%AF%E3%80%82 已完场赔率 比分赔率Chapter 30 203 Madame Morrel sent her daughter to bed, and half an hour after Julie had retired, she rose, took off her shoes, and went stealthily along the passage, to see through the keyhole what her husband was doing. In the passage she saw a retreating shadow; it was Julie, who, uneasy herself, had anticipated her mother. The young lady went towards Madame Morrel. "He is writing," she said. They had understood each other without speaking. Madame Morrel looked again through the keyhole, Morrel was writing; but Madame Morrel remarked, what her daughter had not observed, that her husband was writing on stamped paper. The terrible idea that he was writing his will flashed across her; she shuddered, and yet had not strength to utter a word. Next day M. Morrel seemed as calm as ever, went into his office as usual, came to his breakfast punctually, and then, after dinner, he placed his daughter beside him, took her head in his arms, and held her for a long time against his bosom. In the evening, Julie told her mother, that although he was apparently so calm, she had noticed that her father's heart beat violently. The next two days passed in much the same way. On the evening of the 4th of September, M. Morrel asked his daughter for the key of his study. Julie trembled at this request, which seemed to her of bad omen. Why did her father ask for this key which she always kept, and which was only taken from her in childhood as a punishment? The young girl looked at Morrel. "What have I done wrong, father," she said, "that you should take this key from me?" "Nothing, my dear," replied the unhappy man, the tears starting to his eyes at this simple question, -- "nothing, only I want it." Julie made a pretence to feel for the key. "I must have left it in my room," she said. And she went out, but instead of going to her apartment she hastened to consult Emmanuel. "Do not give this key to your father," said he, "and to-morrow morning, if possible, do not quit him for a moment." She questioned Emmanuel, but he knew nothing, or would not say what he knew. During the night, between the 4th and 5th of September, Madame Morrel remained listening for every sound, and, until three o'clock in the morning, she heard her husband pacing the room in great agitation. It was three o'clock when he threw himself on the bed. The mother and daughter passed the night together. They had expected Maximilian since the previous evening. At eight o'clock in the morning Morrel entered their chamber. He was calm; but the agitation of the night was legible in his pale and careworn visage. They did not dare to ask him how he had slept. Morrel was kinder to his wife, more affectionate to his daughter, than he had ever been. He could not cease gazing at and kissing the sweet girl. Julie, mindful of Emmanuel's request, was following her father when he quitted the room, but he said to her quickly, -- "Remain with your mother, dearest." Julie wished to accompany him. "I wish you to do so," said he. This was the first time Morrel had ever so spoken, but he said it in a tone of paternal kindness, and Julie did not dare to disobey. She remained at the same spot standing mute and motionless. An instant afterwards the door opened, she felt two arms encircle her, and a mouth pressed her forehead. She looked up and uttered an exclamation of joy. "Maximilian, my dearest brother!" she cried. At these words Madame Morrel rose, and threw herself into her son's arms. "Mother," said the young man, looking alternately at Madame Morrel and her daughter, "what has occurred -- what has happened? Your letter has frightened me, and I have come hither with all speed." "Julie," said Madame Morrel, making a sign to the young man, "go and tell your father that Maximilian has just arrived." The young lady rushed out of the apartment, but on the first step of the staircase she found a man holding a letter in his hand. "Are you not Mademoiselle Julie Morrel?" inquired the man, with a strong Italian accent. "Yes, sir," replied Julie with hesitation; "what is your pleasure? I do not know you." "Read this letter," he said, handing it to her. Julie hesitated. "It concerns the best interests of your father," said

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-- Page 89-- 已完场赔率 比分赔率Chapter 10 79 M. de Blacas returned as speedily as he had departed, but in the ante-chamber he was forced to appeal to the king's authority. Villefort's dusty garb, his costume, which was not of courtly cut, excited the susceptibility of M. de Breze, who was all astonishment at finding that this young man had the audacity to enter before the king in such attire. The duke, however, overcame all difficulties with a word -- his majesty's order; and, in spite of the protestations which the master of ceremonies made for the honor of his office and principles, Villefort was introduced. The king was seated in the same place where the duke had left him. On opening the door, Villefort found himself facing him, and the young magistrate's first impulse was to pause. "Come in, M. de Villefort," said the king, "come in." Villefort bowed, and advancing a few steps, waited until the king should interrogate him. "M. de Villefort," said Louis XVIII., "the Duc de Blacas assures me you have some interesting information to communicate." "Sire, the duke is right, and I believe your majesty will think it equally important." "In the first place, and before everything else, sir, is the news as bad in your opinion as I am asked to believe?" "Sire, I believe it to be most urgent, but I hope, by the speed I have used, that it is not irreparable." "Speak as fully as you please, sir," said the king, who began to give way to the emotion which had showed itself in Blacas's face and affected Villefort's voice. "Speak, sir, and pray begin at the beginning; I like order in everything." "Sire," said Villefort, "I will render a faithful report to your majesty, but I must entreat your forgiveness if my anxiety leads to some obscurity in my language." A glance at the king after this discreet and subtle exordium, assured Villefort of the benignity of his august auditor, and he went on: -- "Sire, I have come as rapidly to Paris as possible, to inform your majesty that I have discovered, in the exercise of my duties, not a commonplace and insignificant plot, such as is every day got up in the lower ranks of the people and in the army, but an actual conspiracy -- a storm which menaces no less than your majesty's throne. Sire, the usurper is arming three ships, he meditates some project, which, however mad, is yet, perhaps, terrible. At this moment he will have left Elba, to go whither I know not, but assuredly to attempt a landing either at Naples, or on the coast of Tuscany, or perhaps on the shores of France. Your majesty is well aware that the sovereign of the Island of Elba has maintained his relations with Italy and France?" "I am, sir," said the king, much agitated; "and recently we have had information that the Bonapartist clubs have had meetings in the Rue Saint-Jacques. But proceed, I beg of you. How did you obtain these details?" "Sire, they are the results of an examination which I have made of a man of Marseilles, whom I have watched for some time, and arrested on the day of my departure. This person, a sailor, of turbulent character, and whom I suspected of Bonapartism, has been secretly to the Island of Elba. There he saw the grand-marshal, who charged him with an oral message to a Bonapartist in Paris, whose name I could not extract from him; but this mission was to prepare men's minds for a return (it is the man who says this, sire) -- a return which will soon occur." "And where is this man?" "In prison, sire." Chapter 31 217 "No; but Gaetano did, I thought." "Gaetano had only seen the vessel from a distance, he had not then spoken to any one." "And if this person be not a smuggler, who is he?" "A wealthy signor, who travels for his pleasure." "Come," thought Franz, "he is still more mysterious, since the two accounts do not agree." "What is his name?" "If you ask him he says Sinbad the Sailor; but I doubt if it be his real name." "Sinbad the Sailor?" "Yes." "And where does he reside?" "On the sea." "What country does he come from?" "I do not know." "Have you ever seen him?" "Sometimes." "What sort of a man is he?" "Your excellency will judge for yourself." "Where will he receive me?" "No doubt in the subterranean palace Gaetano told you of." "Have you never had the curiosity, when you have landed and found this island deserted, to seek for this enchanted palace?" "Oh, yes, more than once, but always in vain; we examined the grotto all over, but we never could find the slightest trace of any opening; they say that the door is not opened by a key, but a magic word." "Decidedly," muttered Franz, "this is an Arabian Nights' adventure." "His excellency waits for you," said a voice, which he recognized as that of the sentinel. He was accompanied by two of the yacht's crew. Franz drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and presented it to the man who had spoken to him. Without uttering a word, they bandaged his eyes with a care that showed their apprehensions of his committing some indiscretion. Afterwards he was made to promise that he would not make the least attempt to raise the bandage. He promised. Then his two guides took his arms, and he went on, guided by them, and preceded by the sentinel. After going about thirty paces, he smelt the appetizing odor of the kid that 已完场赔率 比分赔率Chapter 6 52 "Never mind, Renee," replied the marquise, with a look of tenderness that seemed out of keeping with her harsh dry features; but, however all other feelings may be withered in a woman's nature, there is always one bright smiling spot in the desert of her heart, and that is the shrine of maternal love. "I forgive you. What I was saying, Villefort, was, that the Bonapartists had not our sincerity, enthusiasm, or devotion." "They had, however, what supplied the place of those fine qualities," replied the young man, "and that was fanaticism. Napoleon is the Mahomet of the West, and is worshipped by his commonplace but ambitions followers, not only as a leader and lawgiver, but also as the personification of equality." "He!" cried the marquise: "Napoleon the type of equality! For mercy's sake, then, what would you call Robespierre? Come, come, do not strip the latter of his just rights to bestow them on the Corsican, who, to my mind, has usurped quite enough." "Nay, madame; I would place each of these heroes on his right pedestal -- that of Robespierre on his scaffold in the Place Louis Quinze; that of Napoleon on the column of the Place Vendome. The only difference consists in the opposite character of the equality advocated by these two men; one is the equality that elevates, the other is the equality that degrades; one brings a king within reach of the guillotine, the other elevates the people to a level with the throne. Observe," said Villefort, smiling, "I do not mean to deny that both these men were revolutionary scoundrels, and that the 9th Thermidor and the 4th of April, in the year 1814, were lucky days for France, worthy of being gratefully remembered by every friend to monarchy and civil order; and that explains how it comes to pass that, fallen, as I trust he is forever, Napoleon has still retained a train of parasitical satellites. Still, marquise, it has been so with other usurpers -- Cromwell, for instance, who was not half so bad as Napoleon, had his partisans and advocates." "Do you know, Villefort, that you are talking in a most dreadfully revolutionary strain? But I excuse it, it is impossible to expect the son of a Girondin to be free from a small spice of the old leaven." A deep crimson suffused the countenance of Villefort. "'Tis true, madame," answered he, "that my father was a Girondin, but he was not among the number of those who voted for the king's death; he was an equal sufferer with yourself during the Reign of Terror, and had well-nigh lost his head on the same scaffold on which your father perished." "True," replied the marquise, without wincing in the slightest degree at the tragic remembrance thus called up; "but bear in mind, if you please, that our respective parents underwent persecution and proscription from diametrically opposite principles; in proof of which I may remark, that while my family remained among the stanchest adherents of the exiled princes, your father lost no time in joining the new government; and that while the Citizen Noirtier was a Girondin, the Count Noirtier became a senator." "Dear mother," interposed Renee, "you know very well it was agreed that all these disagreeable reminiscences should forever be laid aside." "Suffer me, also, madame," replied Villefort, "to add my earnest request to Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran's, that you will kindly allow the veil of oblivion to cover and conceal the past. What avails recrimination over matters wholly past recall? For my own part, I have laid aside even the name of my father, and altogether disown his political principles. He was -- nay, probably may still be -- a Bonapartist, and is called Noirtier; I, on the contrary, am a stanch royalist, and style myself de Villefort. Let what may remain of revolutionary sap exhaust itself and die away with the old trunk, and condescend only to regard the young shoot which has started up at a distance from the parent tree, without having the power, any more than the wish, to separate entirely from the stock from which it sprung." "Bravo, Villefort!" cried the marquis; "excellently well said! Come, now, I have hopes of obtaining what I have been for years endeavoring to persuade the marquise to promise; namely, a perfect amnesty and -- Page 59-- 已完场赔率 比分赔率-- Page 285--

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-- Page 167-- 已完场赔率 比分赔率Chapter 40 310 "The affair is still in projection." "And he who says in `projection,' means already decided," said Debray. "No," replied Morcerf, "my father is most anxious about it; and I hope, ere long, to introduce you, if not to my wife, at least to my betrothed -- Mademoiselle Eugenie Danglars." "Eugenie Danglars," said Monte Cristo; "tell me, is not her father Baron Danglars?" "Yes," returned Morcerf, "a baron of a new creation." "What matter," said Monte Cristo "if he has rendered the State services which merit this distinction?" "Enormous ones," answered Beauchamp. "Although in reality a Liberal, he negotiated a loan of six millions for Charles X., in 1829, who made him a baron and chevalier of the Legion of Honor; so that he wears the ribbon, not, as you would think, in his waistcoat-pocket, but at his button-hole." "Ah," interrupted Morcerf, laughing, "Beauchamp, Beauchamp, keep that for the Corsaire or the Charivari, but spare my future father-in-law before me." Then, turning to Monte Cristo, "You just now spoke his name as if you knew the baron?" "I do not know him," returned Monte Cristo; "but I shall probably soon make his acquaintance, for I have a credit opened with him by the house of Richard & Blount, of London, Arstein & Eskeles of Vienna, and Thomson & French at Rome." As he pronounced the two last names, the count glanced at Maximilian Morrel. If the stranger expected to produce an effect on Morrel, he was not mistaken -- Maximilian started as if he had been electrified. "Thomson & French," said he; "do you know this house, monsieur?" "They are my bankers in the capital of the Christian world," returned the count quietly. "Can my influence with them be of any service to you?" "Oh, count, you could assist me perhaps in researches which have been, up to the present, fruitless. This house, in past years, did ours a great service, and has, I know not for what reason, always denied having rendered us this service." "I shall be at your orders," said Monte Cristo bowing. "But," continued Morcerf, "a propos of Danglars, -- we have strangely wandered from the subject. We were speaking of a suitable habitation for the Count of Monte Cristo. Come, gentlemen, let us all propose some place. Where shall we lodge this new guest in our great capital?" "Faubourg Saint-Germain," said Chateau-Renaud. "The count will find there a charming hotel, with a court and garden." "Bah, Chateau-Renaud," returned Debray, "you only know your dull and gloomy Faubourg Saint-Germain; do not pay any attention to him, count -- live in the Chaussee d'Antin, that's the real centre of Paris." "Boulevard de l'Opera," said Beauchamp; "the second floor -- a house with a balcony. The count will have his cushions of silver cloth brought there, and as he smokes his chibouque, see all Paris pass before him." "You have no idea, then, Morrel?" asked Chateau-Renaud; "you do not propose anything." "Oh, yes," returned the young man, smiling; "on the contrary, I have one, but I expected the count would be %E4%BF%9D%E9%99%A9%E5%85%AC%E5%8F%B8%E5%8F%AF%E4%BB%A5%E5%9C%A8%E6%B3%95%E5%BE%8B%E3%80%81%E8%A1%8C%E6%94%BF%E6%B3%95%E8%A7%84%E5%92%8C%E4%B8%AD%E5%9B%BD%E9%93%B6%E8%A1%8C%E4%BF%9D%E9%99%A9%E7%9B%91%E7%9D%A3%E7%AE%A1%E7%90%86%E5%A7%94%E5%91%98%E4%BC%9A%E8%A7%84%E5%AE%9A%E7%9A%84%E5%9F%BA%E7%A1%80%E4%B8%8A%E6%8A%AB%E9%9C%B2%E6%9B%B4%E5%A4%9A%E4%BF%A1%E6%81%AF%E3%80%82 已完场赔率 比分赔率Chapter 5 41 Danglars took advantage of Caderousse's temper at the moment, to take him off towards Marseilles by the Porte Saint-Victor, staggering as he went. When they had advanced about twenty yards, Danglars looked back and saw Fernand stoop, pick up the crumpled paper, and putting it into his pocket then rush out of the arbor towards Pillon. "Well," said Caderousse, "why, what a lie he told! He said he was going to the Catalans, and he is going to the city. Hallo, Fernand!" "Oh, you don't see straight," said Danglars; "he's gone right enough." "Well," said Caderousse, "I should have said not -- how treacherous wine is!" "Come, come," said Danglars to himself, "now the thing is at work and it will effect its purpose unassisted." Chapter 5 The Marriage-Feast. The morning's sun rose clear and resplendent, touching the foamy waves into a network of ruby-tinted light. The feast had been made ready on the second floor at La Reserve, with whose arbor the reader is already familiar. The apartment destined for the purpose was spacious and lighted by a number of windows, over each of which was written in golden letters for some inexplicable reason the name of one of the principal cities of France; beneath these windows a wooden balcony extended the entire length of the house. And although the entertainment was fixed for twelve o'clock, an hour previous to that time the balcony was filled with impatient and expectant guests, consisting of the favored part of the crew of the Pharaon, and other personal friends of the bride-groom, the whole of whom had arrayed themselves in their choicest costumes, in order to do greater honor to the occasion. Various rumors were afloat to the effect that the owners of the Pharaon had promised to attend the nuptial feast; but all seemed unanimous in doubting that an act of such rare and exceeding condescension could possibly be intended. Danglars, however, who now made his appearance, accompanied by Caderousse, effectually confirmed the report, stating that he had recently conversed with M. Morrel, who had himself assured him of his intention to dine at La Reserve. In fact, a moment later M. Morrel appeared and was saluted with an enthusiastic burst of applause from the crew of the Pharaon, who hailed the visit of the shipowner as a sure indication that the man whose wedding feast he thus delighted to honor would ere long be first in command of the ship; and as Dantes was universally beloved on board his vessel, the sailors put no restraint on their tumultuous joy at finding that the opinion and choice of their superiors so exactly coincided with their own. With the entrance of M. Morrel, Danglars and Caderousse were despatched in search of the bride-groom to convey to him the intelligence of the arrival of the important personage whose coming had created such a lively sensation, and to beseech him to make haste. Chapter 17 131 melancholy dignity which Dantes, thanks to the imitative powers bestowed on him by nature, easily acquired, as well as that outward polish and politeness he had before been wanting in, and which is seldom possessed except by those who have been placed in constant intercourse with persons of high birth and breeding. At the end of fifteen months the level was finished, and the excavation completed beneath the gallery, and the two workmen could distinctly hear the measured tread of the sentinel as he paced to and fro over their heads. Compelled, as they were, to await a night sufficiently dark to favor their flight, they were obliged to defer their final attempt till that auspicious moment should arrive; their greatest dread now was lest the stone through which the sentry was doomed to fall should give way before its right time, and this they had in some measure provided against by propping it up with a small beam which they had discovered in the walls through which they had worked their way. Dantes was occupied in arranging this piece of wood when he heard Faria, who had remained in Edmond's cell for the purpose of cutting a peg to secure their rope-ladder, call to him in a tone indicative of great suffering. Dantes hastened to his dungeon, where he found him standing in the middle of the room, pale as death, his forehead streaming with perspiration, and his hands clinched tightly together. "Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Dantes, "what is the matter? what has happened?" "Quick! quick!" returned the abbe, "listen to what I have to say." Dantes looked in fear and wonder at the livid countenance of Faria, whose eyes, already dull and sunken, were surrounded by purple circles, while his lips were white as those of a corpse, and his very hair seemed to stand on end. "Tell me, I beseech you, what ails you?" cried Dantes, letting his chisel fall to the floor. "Alas," faltered out the abbe, "all is over with me. I am seized with a terrible, perhaps mortal illness; I can feel that the paroxysm is fast approaching. I had a similar attack the year previous to my imprisonment. This malady admits but of one remedy; I will tell you what that is. Go into my cell as quickly as you can; draw out one of the feet that support the bed; you will find it has been hollowed out for the purpose of containing a small phial you will see there half-filled with a red-looking fluid. Bring it to me -- or rather -- no, no! -- I may be found here, therefore help me back to my room while I have the strength to drag myself along. Who knows what may happen, or how long the attack may last?" In spite of the magnitude of the misfortune which thus suddenly frustrated his hopes, Dantes did not lose his presence of mind, but descended into the passage, dragging his unfortunate companion with him; then, half-carrying, half-supporting him, he managed to reach the abbe's chamber, when he immediately laid the sufferer on his bed. "Thanks," said the poor abbe, shivering as though his veins were filled with ice. "I am about to be seized with a fit of catalepsy; when it comes to its height I shall probably lie still and motionless as though dead, uttering neither sigh nor groan. On the other hand, the symptoms may be much more violent, and cause me to fall into fearful convulsions, foam at the mouth, and cry out loudly. Take care my cries are not heard, for if they are it is more than probable I should be removed to another part of the prison, and we be separated forever. When I become quite motionless, cold, and rigid as a corpse, then, and not before, -- be careful about this, -- force open my teeth with the knife, pour from eight to ten drops of the liquor contained in the phial down my throat, and I may perhaps revive." "Perhaps!" exclaimed Dantes in grief-stricken tones. "Help! help!" cried the abbe, "I -- I -- die -- I" -- So sudden and violent was the fit that the unfortunate prisoner was unable to complete the sentence; a violent convulsion shook his whole frame, his eyes started from their sockets, his mouth was drawn on one side, his 已完场赔率 比分赔率-- Page 219--

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-- Page 297-- -- Page 196-- 南京六合今生记忆婚庆价格%E5%AE%9E%E9%99%85%E7%BB%8F%E8%90%A5%E6%9C%9F%E6%9C%AA%E8%B6%85%E8%BF%873%E4%B8%AA%E6%9C%88%E7%9A%84%E4%BF%9D%E9%99%A9%E5%85%AC%E5%8F%B8%E5%B9%B4%E5%BA%A6%E8%B4%A2%E5%8A%A1%E4%BC%9A%E8%AE%A1%E6%8A%A5%E5%91%8A%E5%8F%AF%E4%BB%A5%E4%B8%8D%E7%BB%8F%E5%AE%A1%E8%AE%A1%E3%80%82%E7%AC%AC%E5%8D%81%E4%B8%89%E6%9D%A1++%E4%BF%9D%E9%99%A9%E5%85%AC%E5%8F%B8%E6%8A%AB%E9%9C%B2%E7%9A%84%E4%B8%8A%E4%B8%80%E5%B9%B4%E5%BA%A6%E4%BF%9D%E9%99%A9%E8%B4%A3%E4%BB%BB%E5%87%86%E5%A4%87%E9%87%91%E4%BF%A1%E6%81%AF%E5%8C%85%E6%8B%AC%E5%87%86%E5%A4%87%E9%87%91%E8%AF%84%E4%BC%B0%E6%96%B9%E9%9D%A2%E7%9A%84%E5%AE%9A%E6%80%A7%E4%BF%A1%E6%81%AF%E5%92%8C%E5%AE%9A%E9%87%8F%E4%BF%A1%E6%81%AF%E3%80%82 -- Page 139--
-- Page 326-- -- Page 226-- www生活幽默com六合宝典Chapter 34 249 "My dear fellow, are you really on such good terms with her as to venture to take me to her box?" "Why, I have only had the honor of being in her society and conversing with her three or four times in my life; but you know that even such an acquaintance as that might warrant my doing what you ask." At that instant, the countess perceived Franz, and graciously waved her hand to him, to which he replied by a respectful inclination of the head. "Upon my word," said Albert, "you seem to be on excellent terms with the beautiful countess." "You are mistaken in thinking so," returned Franz calmly; "but you merely fall into the same error which leads so many of our countrymen to commit the most egregious blunders, -- I mean that of judging the habits and customs of Italy and Spain by our Parisian notions; believe me, nothing is more fallacious than to form any estimate of the degree of intimacy you may suppose existing among persons by the familiar terms they seem upon; there is a similarity of feeling at this instant between ourselves and the countess -- nothing more." "Is there, indeed, my good fellow? Pray tell me, is it sympathy of heart?" "No; of taste," continued Franz gravely. "And in what manner has this congeniality of mind been evinced?" "By the countess's visiting the Colosseum, as we did last night, by moonlight, and nearly alone." "You were with her, then?" "I was." "And what did you say to her?" "Oh, we talked of the illustrious dead of whom that magnificent ruin is a glorious monument!" "Upon my word," cried Albert, "you must have been a very entertaining companion alone, or all but alone, with a beautiful woman in such a place of sentiment as the Colosseum, and yet to find nothing better a talk about than the dead! All I can say is, if ever I should get such a chance, the living should be my theme." "And you will probably find your theme ill-chosen." "But," said Albert, breaking in upon his discourse, "never mind the past; let us only remember the present. Are you not going to keep your promise of introducing me to the fair subject of our remarks?" "Certainly, directly the curtain falls on the stage." "What a confounded time this first act takes. I believe, on my soul, that they never mean to finish it." "Oh, yes, they will; only listen to that charming finale. How exquisitely Coselli sings his part." "But what an awkward, inelegant fellow he is." "Well, then, what do you say to La Specchia? Did you ever see anything more perfect than her acting?" "Why, you know, my dear fellow, when one has been accustomed to Malibran and Sontag, such singers as these don't make the same impression on you they perhaps do on others." -- Page 166--
-- Page 110-- -- Page 325-- 六合缘-- Page 21-- Chapter 42 322 "Close by here, monsieur," replied the notary -- "a little beyond Passy; a charming situation, in the heart of the Bois de Boulogne." "So near as that?" said the Count; "but that is not in the country. What made you choose a house at the gates of Paris, M. Bertuccio?" "I," cried the steward with a strange expression. "His excellency did not charge me to purchase this house. If his excellency will recollect -- if he will think" -- "Ah, true," observed Monte Cristo; "I recollect now. I read the advertisement in one of the papers, and was tempted by the false title, `a country house.'" "It is not yet too late," cried Bertuccio, eagerly; "and if your excellency will intrust me with the commission, I will find you a better at Enghien, at Fontenay-aux-Roses, or at Bellevue." "Oh, no," returned Monte Cristo negligently; "since I have this, I will keep it." "And you are quite right," said the notary, who feared to lose his fee. "It is a charming place, well supplied with spring-water and fine trees; a comfortable habitation, although abandoned for a long time, without reckoning the furniture, which, although old, is yet valuable, now that old things are so much sought after. I suppose the count has the tastes of the day?" "To be sure," returned Monte Cristo; "it is very convenient, then?" "It is more -- it is magnificent." "Peste, let us not lose such an opportunity," returned Monte Cristo. "The deed, if you please, Mr. Notary." And he signed it rapidly, after having first run his eye over that part of the deed in which were specified the situation of the house and the names of the proprietors. "Bertuccio," said he, "give fifty-five thousand francs to monsieur." The steward left the room with a faltering step, and returned with a bundle of bank-notes, which the notary counted like a man who never gives a receipt for money until after he is sure it is all there. "And now," demanded the count, "are all the forms complied with?" "All, sir." "Have you the keys?" "They are in the hands of the concierge, who takes care of the house, but here is the order I have given him to install the count in his new possessions." "Very well;" and Monte Cristo made a sign with his hand to the notary, which said, "I have no further need of you; you may go." "But," observed the honest notary, "the count is, I think, mistaken; it is only fifty thousand francs, everything included." "And your fee?" "Is included in this sum." "But have you not come from Auteuil here?"
-- Page 330-- Chapter 40 299 "Do not say that, Debray," returned Beauchamp, laughing, "for here is Chateau-Renaud, who, to cure you of your mania for paradoxes, will pass the sword of Renaud de Montauban, his ancestor, through your body." "He will sully it then," returned Lucien; "for I am low -- very low." "Oh, heavens," cried Beauchamp, "the minister quotes Beranger, what shall we come to next?" "M. de Chateau-Renaud -- M. Maximilian Morrel," said the servant, announcing two fresh guests. "Now, then, to breakfast," said Beauchamp; "for, if I remember, you told me you only expected two persons, Albert." "Morrel," muttered Albert -- "Morrel -- who is he?" But before he had finished, M. de Chateau-Renaud, a handsome young man of thirty, gentleman all over, -- that is, with the figure of a Guiche and the wit of a Mortemart, -- took Albert's hand. "My dear Albert," said he, "let me introduce to you M. Maximilian Morrel, captain of Spahis, my friend; and what is more -- however the man speaks for himself ---my preserver. Salute my hero, viscount." And he stepped on one side to give place to a young man of refined and dignified bearing, with large and open brow, piercing eyes, and black mustache, whom our readers have already seen at Marseilles, under circumstances sufficiently dramatic not to be forgotten. A rich uniform, half French, half Oriental, set off his graceful and stalwart figure, and his broad chest was decorated with the order of the Legion of Honor. The young officer bowed with easy and elegant politeness. "Monsieur," said Albert with affectionate courtesy, "the count of Chateau-Renaud knew how much pleasure this introduction would give me; you are his friend, be ours also." "Well said," interrupted Chateau-Renaud; "and pray that, if you should ever be in a similar predicament, he may do as much for you as he did for me." "What has he done?" asked Albert. "Oh, nothing worth speaking of," said Morrel; "M. de Chateau-Renaud exaggerates." "Not worth speaking of?" cried Chateau-Renaud; "life is not worth speaking of! -- that is rather too philosophical, on my word, Morrel. It is very well for you, who risk your life every day, but for me, who only did so once" -- "We gather from all this, baron, that Captain Morrel saved your life." "Exactly so." "On what occasion?" asked Beauchamp. "Beauchamp, my good fellow, you know I am starving," said Debray: "do not set him off on some long story." "Well, I do not prevent your sitting down to table," replied Beauchamp, "Chateau-Renaud can tell us while we eat our breakfast." "Gentlemen," said Morcerf, "it is only a quarter past ten, and I expect some one else." "Ah, true, a diplomatist!" observed Debray. "Diplomat or not, I don't know; I only know that he charged himself on my account with a mission, which he terminated so entirely to my satisfaction, that had I been king, I should have instantly created him knight of all 六合'彩123-- Page 207-- -- Page 283--
-- Page 240-- -- Page 121-- 六合斋酱驴肉Chapter 41 313 "But at least we shall see her," said Beauchamp, "or do you keep eunuchs as well as mutes?" "Oh, no," replied Monte Cristo; "I do not carry brutalism so far. Every one who surrounds me is free to quit me, and when they leave me will no longer have any need of me or any one else; it is for that reason, perhaps, that they do not quit me." They had long since passed to dessert and cigars. "My dear Albert," said Debray, rising, "it is half-past two. Your guest is charming, but you leave the best company to go into the worst sometimes. I must return to the minister's. I will tell him of the count, and we shall soon know who he is." "Take care," returned Albert; "no one has been able to accomplish that." "Oh, we have three millions for our police; it is true they are almost always spent beforehand, but, no matter, we shall still have fifty thousand francs to spend for this purpose." "And when you know, will you tell me?" "I promise you. Au revoir, Albert. Gentlemen, good morning." As he left the room, Debray called out loudly, "My carriage." "Bravo," said Beauchamp to Albert; "I shall not go to the Chamber, but I have something better to offer my readers than a speech of M. Danglars." "For heaven's sake, Beauchamp," returned Morcerf, "do not deprive me of the merit of introducing him everywhere. Is he not peculiar?" "He is more than that," replied Chateau-Renaud; "he is one of the most extraordinary men I ever saw in my life. Are you coming, Morrel?" "Directly I have given my card to the count, who has promised to pay us a visit at Rue Meslay, No. 14." "Be sure I shall not fail to do so," returned the count, bowing. And Maximilian Morrel left the room with the Baron de Chateau-Renaud, leaving Monte Cristo alone with Morcerf. Chapter 41 The Presentation. When Albert found himself alone with Monte Cristo, "My dear count," said he, "allow me to commence my services as cicerone by showing you a specimen of a bachelor's apartment. You, who are accustomed to the palaces of Italy, can amuse yourself by calculating in how many square feet a young man who is not the worst lodged in Paris can live. As we pass from one room to another, I will open the windows to let you breathe." Monte Cristo had already seen the breakfast-room and the salon on the ground-floor. Albert led him first to his atelier, which was, as we have said, his favorite apartment. Monte Cristo quickly appreciated all that Albert had collected here -- old cabinets, Japanese porcelain, Oriental stuffs, Venetian glass, arms from all parts of the world -- everything was familiar to him; and at the first glance he recognized their date, their country, and their origin. Morcerf had expected he should be the guide; on the contrary, it was he who, under -- Page 233--
Chapter 30 207 "The house of Thomson & French is the only one who, from humanity, or, it may be, selfishness -- it is not for me to read men's hearts -- has had any pity for me. Its agent, who will in ten minutes present himself to receive the amount of a bill of 287,500 francs, I will not say granted, but offered me three months. Let this house be the first repaid, my son, and respect this man." "Father, I will," said Maximilian. "And now, once more, adieu," said Morrel. "Go, leave me; I would be alone. You will find my will in the secretary in my bedroom." The young man remained standing and motionless, having but the force of will and not the power of execution. "Hear me, Maximilian," said his father. "Suppose I was a soldier like you, and ordered to carry a certain redoubt, and you knew I must be killed in the assault, would you not say to me, as you said just now, `Go, father; for you are dishonored by delay, and death is preferable to shame!'" "Yes, yes," said the young man, "yes;" and once again embracing his father with convulsive pressure, he said, "Be it so, my father." And he rushed out of the study. When his son had left him, Morrel remained an instant standing with his eyes fixed on the door; then putting forth his arm, he pulled the bell. After a moment's interval, Cocles appeared. It was no longer the same man -- the fearful revelations of the three last days had crushed him. This thought -- the house of Morrel is about to stop payment -- bent him to the earth more than twenty years would otherwise have done. "My worthy Cocles," said Morrel in a tone impossible to describe, "do you remain in the ante-chamber. When the gentleman who came three months ago -- the agent of Thomson & French -- arrives, announce his arrival to me." Cocles made no reply; he made a sign with his head, went into the anteroom, and seated himself. Morrel fell back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the clock; there were seven minutes left, that was all. The hand moved on with incredible rapidity, he seemed to see its motion. What passed in the mind of this man at the supreme moment of his agony cannot be told in words. He was still comparatively young, he was surrounded by the loving care of a devoted family, but he had convinced himself by a course of reasoning, illogical perhaps, yet certainly plausible, that he must separate himself from all he held dear in the world, even life itself. To form the slightest idea of his feelings, one must have seen his face with its expression of enforced resignation and its tear-moistened eyes raised to heaven. The minute hand moved on. The pistols were loaded; he stretched forth his hand, took one up, and murmured his daughter's name. Then he laid it down seized his pen, and wrote a few words. It seemed to him as if he had not taken a sufficient farewell of his beloved daughter. Then he turned again to the clock, counting time now not by minutes, but by seconds. He took up the deadly weapon again, his lips parted and his eyes fixed on the clock, and then shuddered at the click of the trigger as he cocked the pistol. At this moment of mortal anguish the cold sweat came forth upon his brow, a pang stronger than death clutched at his heart-strings. He heard the door of the staircase creak on its hinges -- the clock gave its warning to strike eleven -- the door of his study opened; Morrel did not turn round -- he expected these words of Cocles, "The agent of Thomson & French." He placed the muzzle of the pistol between his teeth. Suddenly he heard a cry -- it was his daughter's voice. He turned and saw Julie. The pistol fell from his hands. "My father!" cried the young girl, out of breath, and half dead with joy -- "saved, you are saved!" And she threw herself into his arms, holding in her extended hand a red, netted silk purse. Chapter 43 323 "Yes, certainly." "Well, then, it is but fair that you should be paid for your loss of time and trouble," said the count; and he made a gesture of polite dismissal. The notary left the room backwards, and bowing down to the ground; it was the first time he had ever met a similar client. "See this gentleman out," said the count to Bertuccio. And the steward followed the notary out of the room. Scarcely was the count alone, when he drew from his pocket a book closed with a lock, and opened it with a key which he wore round his neck, and which never left him. After having sought for a few minutes, he stopped at a leaf which had several notes, and compared them with the deed of sale, which lay on the table. "`Auteuil, Rue de la Fontaine, No. 28;' it is indeed the same," said he; "and now, am I to rely upon an avowal extorted by religious or physical terror? However, in an hour I shall know all. Bertuccio!" cried he, striking a light hammer with a pliant handle on a small gong. "Bertuccio!" The steward appeared at the door. "Monsieur Bertuccio," said the count, "did you never tell me that you had travelled in France?" "In some parts of France -- yes, excellency." "You know the environs of Paris, then?" "No, excellency, no," returned the steward, with a sort of nervous trembling, which Monte Cristo, a connoisseur in all emotions, rightly attributed to great disquietude. "It is unfortunate," returned he, "that you have never visited the environs, for I wish to see my new property this evening, and had you gone with me, you could have given me some useful information." "To Auteuil!" cried Bertuccio, whose copper complexion became livid -- "I go to Auteuil?" "Well, what is there surprising in that? When I live at Auteuil, you must come there, as you belong to my service." Bertuccio hung down his head before the imperious look of his master, and remained motionless, without making any answer. "Why, what has happened to you? -- are you going to make me ring a second time for the carriage?" asked Monte Cristo, in the same tone that Louis XIV. pronounced the famous, "I have been almost obliged to wait." Bertuccio made but one bound to the ante-chamber, and cried in a hoarse voice -- "His excellency's horses!" Monte Cristo wrote two or three notes, and, as he sealed the last, the steward appeared. "Your excellency's carriage is at the door," said he. "Well, take your hat and gloves," returned Monte Cristo. "Am I to accompany you, your excellency?" cried Bertuccio. "Certainly, you must give the orders, for I intend residing at the house." It was unexampled for a servant of the count's to dare to dispute an order of his, so the steward, without saying a word, followed his master, who got into the carriage, and signed to him to follow, which he did, taking his place respectfully on the front seat. Chapter 43 The House at Auteuil. Monte Cristo noticed, as they descended the staircase, that Bertuccio signed himself in the Corsican manner; that is, had formed the sign of the cross in the air with his thumb, and as he seated himself in the carriage, 泉州六合儿童创意产业有限公司Chapter 42 321 concierge, the massy gates rolled on their hinges -- they had seen the Count coming, and at Paris, as everywhere else, he was served with the rapidity of lightning. The coachman entered and traversed the half-circle without slackening his speed, and the gates were closed ere the wheels had ceased to sound on the gravel. The carriage stopped at the left side of the portico, two men presented themselves at the carriage-window; the one was Ali, who, smiling with an expression of the most sincere joy, seemed amply repaid by a mere look from Monte Cristo. The other bowed respectfully, and offered his arm to assist the count in descending. "Thanks, M. Bertuccio," said the count, springing lightly up the three steps of the portico; "and the notary?" "He is in the small salon, excellency," returned Bertuccio. "And the cards I ordered to be engraved as soon as you knew the number of the house?" "Your excellency, it is done already. I have been myself to the best engraver of the Palais Royal, who did the plate in my presence. The first card struck off was taken, according to your orders, to the Baron Danglars, Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin, No. 7; the others are on the mantle-piece of your excellency's bedroom." "Good; what o'clock is it?" "Four o'clock." Monte Cristo gave his hat, cane, and gloves to the same French footman who had called his carriage at the Count of Morcerf's, and then he passed into the small salon, preceded by Bertuccio, who showed him the way. "These are but indifferent marbles in this ante-chamber," said Monte Cristo. "I trust all this will soon be taken away." Bertuccio bowed. As the steward had said, the notary awaited him in the small salon. He was a simple-looking lawyer's clerk, elevated to the extraordinary dignity of a provincial scrivener. "You are the notary empowered to sell the country house that I wish to purchase, monsieur?" asked Monte Cristo. "Yes, count," returned the notary. "Is the deed of sale ready?" "Yes, count." "Have you brought it?" "Here it is." "Very well; and where is this house that I purchase?" asked the count carelessly, addressing himself half to Bertuccio, half to the notary. The steward made a gesture that signified, "I do not know." The notary looked at the count with astonishment. "What!" said he, "does not the count know where the house he purchases is situated?" "No," returned the count. "The count does not know?" "How should I know? I have arrived from Cadiz this morning. I have never before been at Paris, and it is the first time I have ever even set my foot in France." 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Twice during the Hundred Days had Morrel renewed his demand, and twice had Villefort soothed him with promises. At last there was Waterloo, and Morrel came no more; he had done all that was in his power, and any fresh attempt would only compromise himself uselessly. Louis XVIII. remounted the throne; Villefort, to whom Marseilles had become filled with remorseful memories, sought and obtained the situation of king's procureur at Toulouse, and a fortnight afterwards he married Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran, whose father now stood higher at court than ever. And so Dantes, after the Hundred Days and after Waterloo, remained in his dungeon, forgotten of earth and heaven. Danglars comprehended the full extent of the wretched fate that overwhelmed Dantes; and, when Napoleon returned to France, he, after the manner of mediocre minds, termed the coincidence, "a decree of Providence." But when Napoleon returned to Paris, Danglars' heart failed him, and he lived in constant fear of Dantes' return on a mission of vengeance. He therefore informed M. Morrel of his wish to quit the sea, and obtained a recommendation from him to a Spanish merchant, into whose service he entered at the end of March, that is, ten or twelve days after Napoleon's return. He then left for Madrid, and was no more heard of. Fernand understood nothing except that Dantes was absent. What had become of him he cared not to inquire. Only, during the respite the absence of his rival afforded him, he reflected, partly on the means of deceiving Mercedes as to the cause of his absence, partly on plans of emigration and abduction, as from time to time he sat sad and motionless on the summit of Cape Pharo, at the spot from whence Marseilles and the Catalans are visible, watching for the apparition of a young and handsome man, who was for him also the messenger of vengeance. Fernand's mind was made up; he would shoot Dantes, and then kill himself. But Fernand was mistaken; a man of his disposition never kills himself, for he constantly hopes. During this time the empire made its last conscription, and every man in France capable of bearing arms rushed to obey the summons of the emperor. Fernand departed with the rest, bearing with him the terrible thought that while he was away, his rival would perhaps return and marry Mercedes. Had Fernand really meant to kill himself, he would have done so when he parted from Mercedes. His devotion, and the compassion he showed for her misfortunes, produced the effect they always produce on noble minds -- Mercedes had always had a sincere regard for Fernand, and this was now strengthened by gratitude. "My brother," said she as she placed his knapsack on his shoulders, "be careful of yourself, for if you are killed, I shall be alone in the world." These words carried a ray of hope into Fernand's heart. Should Dantes not return, Mercedes might one day be his. Mercedes was left alone face to face with the vast plain that had never seemed so barren, and the sea that had never seemed so vast. Bathed in tears she wandered about the Catalan village. Sometimes she stood mute and motionless as a statue, looking towards Marseilles, at other times gazing on the sea, and debating as to whether it were not better to cast herself into the abyss of the ocean, and thus end her woes. It was not want of courage that prevented her putting this resolution into execution; but her religious feelings came to her aid and saved her. Caderousse was, like Fernand, enrolled in the army, but, being married and eight years older, he was merely sent to the frontier. Old Dantes, who was only sustained by hope, lost all hope at Napoleon's downfall. Five months after he had been separated from his son, and almost at the hour of his arrest, he breathed his last in Mercedes' arms. M. Morrel paid the expenses of his funeral, and a few small debts the poor old man had contracted. There was more than benevolence in this action; there was courage; the south was aflame, and to assist, even on his death-bed, the father of so dangerous a Bonapartist as Dantes, was stigmatized as a crime. 江都至六合高速公路Chapter 17 125 "And his name was" -- "Fernand." "That is a Spanish name, I think?" "He was a Catalan." "You imagine him capable of writing the letter?" "Oh, no; he would more likely have got rid of me by sticking a knife into me." "That is in strict accordance with the Spanish character; an assassination they will unhesitatingly commit, but an act of cowardice, never." "Besides," said Dantes, "the various circumstances mentioned in the letter were wholly unknown to him." "You had never spoken of them yourself to any one?" "To no one." "Not even to your mistress?" "No, not even to my betrothed." "Then it is Danglars." "I feel quite sure of it now." "Wait a little. Pray, was Danglars acquainted with Fernand?" "No -- yes, he was. Now I recollect" -- "What?" "To have seen them both sitting at table together under an arbor at Pere Pamphile's the evening before the day fixed for my wedding. They were in earnest conversation. Danglars was joking in a friendly way, but Fernand looked pale and agitated." "Were they alone?" "There was a third person with them whom I knew perfectly well, and who had, in all probability made their acquaintance; he was a tailor named Caderousse, but he was very drunk. Stay! -- stay! -- How strange that it should not have occurred to me before! Now I remember quite well, that on the table round which they were sitting were pens, ink, and paper. Oh, the heartless, treacherous scoundrels!" exclaimed Dantes, pressing his hand to his throbbing brows. "Is there anything else I can assist you in discovering, besides the villany of your friends?" inquired the abbe with a laugh. "Yes, yes," replied Dantes eagerly; "I would beg of you, who see so completely to the depths of things, and to whom the greatest mystery seems but an easy riddle, to explain to me how it was that I underwent no second -- Page 129--


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Chapter 44 329 "One day we received a letter. I should tell you that we lived in the little village of Rogliano, at the extremity of Cape Corso. This letter was from my brother. He told us that the army was disbanded, and that he should return by Chateauroux, Clermont-Ferrand, Le Puy, and Nimes; and, if I had any money, he prayed me to leave it for him at Nimes, with an inn-keeper with whom I had dealings." "In the smuggling line?" said Monte Cristo. "Eh, your excellency? Every one must live." "Certainly; go on." "I loved my brother tenderly, as I told your excellency, and I resolved not to send the money, but to take it to him myself. I possessed a thousand francs. I left five hundred with Assunta, my sister-in-law, and with the other five hundred I set off for Nimes. It was easy to do so, and as I had my boat and a lading to take in at sea, everything favored my project. But, after we had taken in our cargo, the wind became contrary, so that we were four or five days without being able to enter the Rhone. At last, however, we succeeded, and worked up to Arles. I left the boat between Bellegarde and Beaucaire, and took the road to Nimes." "We are getting to the story now?" "Yes, your excellency; excuse me, but, as you will see, I only tell you what is absolutely necessary. Just at this time the famous massacres took place in the south of France. Three brigands, called Trestaillon, Truphemy, and Graffan, publicly assassinated everybody whom they suspected of Bonapartism. You have doubtless heard of these massacres, your excellency?" "Vaguely; I was far from France at that period. Go on." "As I entered Nimes, I literally waded in blood; at every step you encountered dead bodies and bands of murderers, who killed, plundered, and burned. At the sight of this slaughter and devastation I became terrified, not for myself -- for I, a simple Corsican fisherman, had nothing to fear; on the contrary, that time was most favorable for us smugglers -- but for my brother, a soldier of the empire, returning from the army of the Loire, with his uniform and his epaulets, there was everything to apprehend. I hastened to the inn-keeper. My misgivings had been but too true. My brother had arrived the previous evening at Nimes, and, at the very door of the house where he was about to demand hospitality, he had been assassinated. I did all in my power to discover the murderers, but no one durst tell me their names, so much were they dreaded. I then thought of that French justice of which I had heard so much, and which feared nothing, and I went to the king's attorney." "And this king's attorney was named Villefort?" asked Monte Cristo carelessly. "Yes, your excellency; he came from Marseilles, where he had been deputy-procureur. His zeal had procured him advancement, and he was said to be one of the first who had informed the government of the departure from the Island of Elba." "Then," said Monte Cristo "you went to him?" "`Monsieur,' I said, `my brother was assassinated yesterday in the streets of Nimes, I know not by whom, but it is your duty to find out. You are the representative of justice here, and it is for justice to avenge those she has been unable to protect.' -- `Who was your brother?' asked he. -- `A lieutenant in the Corsican battalion.' -- `A soldier of the usurper, then?' -- `A soldier of the French army.' -- `Well,' replied he, `he has smitten with the sword, and he has perished by the sword.' -- `You are mistaken, monsieur,' I replied; `he has perished by the poniard.' -- `What do you want me to do?' asked the magistrate. -- `I have already told you -- avenge him.' -- `On whom?' -- `On his murderers.' -- `How should I know who they are?' -- `Order them to be sought for.' --
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Chapter 7 60 midst of his happiness, struck a sympathetic chord in his own bosom -- he also was on the point of being married, and he was summoned from his own happiness to destroy that of another. "This philosophic reflection," thought he, "will make a great sensation at M. de Saint-Meran's;" and he arranged mentally, while Dantes awaited further questions, the antithesis by which orators often create a reputation for eloquence. When this speech was arranged, Villefort turned to Dantes. "Go on, sir," said he. "What would you have me say?" "Give all the information in your power." "Tell me on which point you desire information, and I will tell all I know; only," added he, with a smile, "I warn you I know very little." "Have you served under the usurper?" "I was about to be mustered into the Royal Marines when he fell." "It is reported your political opinions are extreme," said Villefort, who had never heard anything of the kind, but was not sorry to make this inquiry, as if it were an accusation. "My political opinions!" replied Dantes. "Alas, sir, I never had any opinions. I am hardly nineteen; I know nothing; I have no part to play. If I obtain the situation I desire, I shall owe it to M. Morrel. Thus all my opinions -- I will not say public, but private -- are confined to these three sentiment, -- I love my father, I respect M. Morrel, and I adore Mercedes. This, sir, is all I can tell you, and you see how uninteresting it is." As Dantes spoke, Villefort gazed at his ingenuous and open countenance, and recollected the words of Renee, who, without knowing who the culprit was, had besought his indulgence for him. With the deputy's knowledge of crime and criminals, every word the young man uttered convinced him more and more of his innocence. This lad, for he was scarcely a man, -- simple, natural, eloquent with that eloquence of the heart never found when sought for; full of affection for everybody, because he was happy, and because happiness renders even the wicked good -- extended his affection even to his judge, spite of Villefort's severe look and stern accent. Dantes seemed full of kindness. "Pardieu," said Villefort, "he is a noble fellow. I hope I shall gain Renee's favor easily by obeying the first command she ever imposed on me. I shall have at least a pressure of the hand in public, and a sweet kiss in private." Full of this idea, Villefort's face became so joyous, that when he turned to Dantes, the latter, who had watched the change on his physiognomy, was smiling also. "Sir," said Villefort, "have you any enemies, at least, that you know." "I have enemies?" replied Dantes; "my position is not sufficiently elevated for that. As for my disposition, that is, perhaps, somewhat too hasty; but I have striven to repress it. I have had ten or twelve sailors under me, and if you question them, they will tell you that they love and respect me, not as a father, for I am too young, but as an elder brother." "But you may have excited jealousy. You are about to become captain at nineteen -- an elevated post; you are about to marry a pretty girl, who loves you; and these two pieces of good fortune may have excited the envy of some one." "You are right; you know men better than I do, and what you say may possibly be the case, I confess; but if such persons are among my acquaintances I prefer not to know it, because then I should be forced to hate
Chapter 39 294 Charles Leboucher. The rest of the furniture of this privileged apartment consisted of old cabinets, filled with Chinese porcelain and Japanese vases, Lucca della Robbia faience, and Palissy platters; of old arm-chairs, in which perhaps had sat Henry IV. or Sully, Louis XIII. or Richelieu -- for two of these arm-chairs, adorned with a carved shield, on which were engraved the fleur-de-lis of France on an azure field evidently came from the Louvre, or, at least, some royal residence. Over these dark and sombre chairs were thrown splendid stuffs, dyed beneath Persia's sun, or woven by the fingers of the women of Calcutta or of Chandernagor. What these stuffs did there, it was impossible to say; they awaited, while gratifying the eyes, a destination unknown to their owner himself; in the meantime they filled the place with their golden and silky reflections. In the centre of the room was a Roller and Blanchet "baby grand" piano in rosewood, but holding the potentialities of an orchestra in its narrow and sonorous cavity, and groaning beneath the weight of the chefs-d'oeuvre of Beethoven, Weber, Mozart, Haydn, Gretry, and Porpora. On the walls, over the doors, on the ceiling, were swords, daggers, Malay creeses, maces, battle-axes; gilded, damasked, and inlaid suits of armor; dried plants, minerals, and stuffed birds, their flame-colored wings outspread in motionless flight, and their beaks forever open. This was Albert's favorite lounging place. However, the morning of the appointment, the young man had established himself in the small salon down-stairs. There, on a table, surrounded at some distance by a large and luxurious divan, every species of tobacco known, -- from the yellow tobacco of Petersburg to the black of Sinai, and so on along the scale from Maryland and Porto-Rico, to Latakia, -- was exposed in pots of crackled earthenware of which the Dutch are so fond; beside them, in boxes of fragrant wood, were ranged, according to their size and quality, pueros, regalias, havanas, and manillas; and, in an open cabinet, a collection of German pipes, of chibouques, with their amber mouth-pieces ornamented with coral, and of narghiles, with their long tubes of morocco, awaiting the caprice or the sympathy of the smokers. Albert had himself presided at the arrangement, or, rather, the symmetrical derangement, which, after coffee, the guests at a breakfast of modern days love to contemplate through the vapor that escapes from their mouths, and ascends in long and fanciful wreaths to the ceiling. At a quarter to ten, a valet entered; he composed, with a little groom named John, and who only spoke English, all Albert's establishment, although the cook of the hotel was always at his service, and on great occasions the count's chasseur also. This valet, whose name was Germain, and who enjoyed the entire confidence of his young master, held in one hand a number of papers, and in the other a packet of letters, which he gave to Albert. Albert glanced carelessly at the different missives, selected two written in a small and delicate hand, and enclosed in scented envelopes, opened them and perused their contents with some attention. "How did these letters come?" said he. "One by the post, Madame Danglars' footman left the other." "Let Madame Danglars know that I accept the place she offers me in her box. Wait; then, during the day, tell Rosa that when I leave the Opera I will sup with her as she wishes. Take her six bottles of different wine -- Cyprus, sherry, and Malaga, and a barrel of Ostend oysters; get them at Borel's, and be sure you say they are for me." "At what o'clock, sir, do you breakfast?" "What time is it now?" "A quarter to ten." "Very well, at half past ten. Debray will, perhaps, be obliged to go to the minister -- and besides" (Albert looked at his tablets), "it is the hour I told the count, 21st May, at half past ten; and though I do not much rely upon his promise, I wish to be punctual. Is the countess up yet?" "If you wish, I will inquire."
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今为六合 生肖
Chapter 17 128 careful to keep concealed? Noirtier was his father." Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Dantes, or hell opened its yawning gulf before him, he could not have been more completely transfixed with horror than he was at the sound of these unexpected words. Starting up, he clasped his hands around his head as though to prevent his very brain from bursting, and exclaimed, "His father! his father!" "Yes, his father," replied the abbe; "his right name was Noirtier de Villefort." At this instant a bright light shot through the mind of Dantes, and cleared up all that had been dark and obscure before. The change that had come over Villefort during the examination, the destruction of the letter, the exacted promise, the almost supplicating tones of the magistrate, who seemed rather to implore mercy than to pronounce punishment, -- all returned with a stunning force to his memory. He cried out, and staggered against the wall like a drunken man, then he hurried to the opening that led from the abbe's cell to his own, and said, "I must be alone, to think over all this." When he regained his dungeon, he threw himself on his bed, where the turnkey found him in the evening visit, sitting with fixed gaze and contracted features, dumb and motionless as a statue. During these hours of profound meditation, which to him had seemed only minutes, he had formed a fearful resolution, and bound himself to its fulfilment by a solemn oath. Dantes was at length roused from his revery by the voice of Faria, who, having also been visited by his jailer, had come to invite his fellow-sufferer to share his supper. The reputation of being out of his mind, though harmlessly and even amusingly so, had procured for the abbe unusual privileges. He was supplied with bread of a finer, whiter quality than the usual prison fare, and even regaled each Sunday with a small quantity of wine. Now this was a Sunday, and the abbe had come to ask his young companion to share the luxuries with him. Dantes followed; his features were no longer contracted, and now wore their usual expression, but there was that in his whole appearance that bespoke one who had come to a fixed and desperate resolve. Faria bent on him his penetrating eye: "I regret now," said he, "having helped you in your late inquiries, or having given you the information I did." "Why so?" inquired Dantes. "Because it has instilled a new passion in your heart -- that of vengeance." Dantes smiled. "Let us talk of something else," said he. Again the abbe looked at him, then mournfully shook his head; but in accordance with Dantes' request, he began to speak of other matters. The elder prisoner was one of those persons whose conversation, like that of all who have experienced many trials, contained many useful and important hints as well as sound information; but it was never egotistical, for the unfortunate man never alluded to his own sorrows. Dantes listened with admiring attention to all he said; some of his remarks corresponded with what he already knew, or applied to the sort of knowledge his nautical life had enabled him to acquire. A part of the good abbe's words, however, were wholly incomprehensible to him; but, like the aurora which guides the navigator in northern latitudes, opened new vistas to the inquiring mind of the listener, and gave fantastic glimpses of new horizons, enabling him justly to estimate the delight an intellectual mind would have in following one so richly gifted as Faria along the heights of truth, where he was so much at home. "You must teach me a small part of what you know," said Dantes, "if only to prevent your growing weary of me. I can well believe that so learned a person as yourself would prefer absolute solitude to being tormented with the company of one as ignorant and uninformed as myself. If you will only agree to my request, I promise you never to mention another word about escaping." The abbe smiled. "Alas, my boy," said he, "human knowledge is confined within very narrow limits; and when I have taught you mathematics, physics,
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Chapter 6 56 "That is true," answered the marquis. "How much do I owe this gracious prince! What is there I would not do to evince my earnest gratitude!" "That is right," cried the marquise. "I love to see you thus. Now, then, were a conspirator to fall into your hands, he would be most welcome." "For my part, dear mother." interposed Renee, "I trust your wishes will not prosper, and that Providence will only permit petty offenders, poor debtors, and miserable cheats to fall into M. de Villefort's hands, -- then I shall be contented." "Just the same as though you prayed that a physician might only be called upon to prescribe for headaches, measles, and the stings of wasps, or any other slight affection of the epidermis. If you wish to see me the king's attorney, you must desire for me some of those violent and dangerous diseases from the cure of which so much honor redounds to the physician." At this moment, and as though the utterance of Villefort's wish had sufficed to effect its accomplishment, a servant entered the room, and whispered a few words in his ear. Villefort immediately rose from table and quitted the room upon the plea of urgent business; he soon, however, returned, his whole face beaming with delight. Renee regarded him with fond affection; and certainly his handsome features, lit up as they then were with more than usual fire and animation, seemed formed to excite the innocent admiration with which she gazed on her graceful and intelligent lover. "You were wishing just now," said Villefort, addressing her, "that I were a doctor instead of a lawyer. Well, I at least resemble the disciples of Esculapius in one thing -- that of not being able to call a day my own, not even that of my betrothal." "And wherefore were you called away just now?" asked Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran, with an air of deep interest. "For a very serious matter, which bids fair to make work for the executioner." "How dreadful!" exclaimed Renee, turning pale. "Is it possible?" burst simultaneously from all who were near enough to the magistrate to hear his words. "Why, if my information prove correct, a sort of Bonaparte conspiracy has just been discovered." "Can I believe my ears?" cried the marquise. "I will read you the letter containing the accusation, at least," said Villefort: -- "`The king's attorney is informed by a friend to the throne and the religions institutions of his country, that one named Edmond Dantes, mate of the ship Pharaon, this day arrived from Smyrna, after having touched at Naples and Porto-Ferrajo, has been the bearer of a letter from Murat to the usurper, and again taken charge of another letter from the usurper to the Bonapartist club in Paris. Ample corroboration of this statement may be obtained by arresting the above-mentioned Edmond Dantes, who either carries the letter for Paris about with him, or has it at his father's abode. Should it not be found in the possession of father or son, then it will assuredly be discovered in the cabin belonging to the said Dantes on board the Pharaon.'" "But," said Renee, "this letter, which, after all, is but an anonymous scrawl, is not even addressed to you, but to the king's attorney."
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Chapter 17 123 "He was supercargo." "And had you been captain, should you have retained him in his employment?" "Not if the choice had remained with me, for I had frequently observed inaccuracies in his accounts." "Good again! Now then, tell me, was any person present during your last conversation with Captain Leclere?" "No; we were quite alone." "Could your conversation have been overheard by any one?" "It might, for the cabin door was open -- and -- stay; now I recollect, -- Danglars himself passed by just as Captain Leclere was giving me the packet for the grand marshal." "That's better," cried the abbe; "now we are on the right scent. Did you take anybody with you when you put into the port of Elba?" "Nobody." "Somebody there received your packet, and gave you a letter in place of it, I think?" "Yes; the grand marshal did." "And what did you do with that letter?" "Put it into my portfolio." "You had your portfolio with you, then? Now, how could a sailor find room in his pocket for a portfolio large enough to contain an official letter?" "You are right; it was left on board." "Then it was not till your return to the ship that you put the letter in the portfolio?" "No." "And what did you do with this same letter while returning from Porto-Ferrajo to the vessel?" "I carried it in my hand." "So that when you went on board the Pharaon, everybody could see that you held a letter in your hand?" "Yes." "Danglars, as well as the rest?" "Danglars, as well as others." "Now, listen to me, and try to recall every circumstance attending your arrest. Do you recollect the words in which the information against you was formulated?"
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