-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Александр Дюма
-
- Граф Монте-Кристо
-
- Стр. 100/1279
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Then
the
first
pangs
of
an
unending
torture
seized
upon
his
heart
.
The
man
he
sacrificed
to
his
ambition
,
that
innocent
victim
immolated
on
the
altar
of
his
father
's
faults
,
appeared
to
him
pale
and
threatening
,
leading
his
affianced
bride
by
the
hand
,
and
bringing
with
him
remorse
,
not
such
as
the
ancients
figured
,
furious
and
terrible
,
but
that
slow
and
consuming
agony
whose
pangs
are
intensified
from
hour
to
hour
up
to
the
very
moment
of
death
.
Then
he
had
a
moment
's
hesitation
.
He
had
frequently
called
for
capital
punishment
on
criminals
,
and
owing
to
his
irresistible
eloquence
they
had
been
condemned
,
and
yet
the
slightest
shadow
of
remorse
had
never
clouded
Villefort
's
brow
,
because
they
were
guilty
;
at
least
,
he
believed
so
;
but
here
was
an
innocent
man
whose
happiness
he
had
destroyed
:
in
this
case
he
was
not
the
judge
,
but
the
executioner
.
As
he
thus
reflected
,
he
felt
the
sensation
we
have
described
,
and
which
had
hitherto
been
unknown
to
him
,
arise
in
his
bosom
,
and
fill
him
with
vague
apprehensions
.
It
is
thus
that
a
wounded
man
trembles
instinctively
at
the
approach
of
the
finger
to
his
wound
until
it
be
healed
,
but
Villefort
's
was
one
of
those
that
never
close
,
or
if
they
do
,
only
close
to
reopen
more
agonizing
than
ever
.
If
at
this
moment
the
sweet
voice
of
Renee
had
sounded
in
his
ears
pleading
for
mercy
,
or
the
fair
Mercedes
had
entered
and
said
,
"
In
the
name
of
God
,
I
conjure
you
to
restore
me
my
affianced
husband
,
"
his
cold
and
trembling
hands
would
have
signed
his
release
;
but
no
voice
broke
the
stillness
of
the
chamber
,
and
the
door
was
opened
only
by
Villefort
's
valet
,
who
came
to
tell
him
that
the
travelling
carriage
was
in
readiness
.
Villefort
rose
,
or
rather
sprang
,
from
his
chair
,
hastily
opened
one
of
the
drawers
of
his
desk
,
emptied
all
the
gold
it
contained
into
his
pocket
,
stood
motionless
an
instant
,
his
hand
pressed
to
his
head
,
muttered
a
few
inarticulate
sounds
,
and
then
,
perceiving
that
his
servant
had
placed
his
cloak
on
his
shoulders
,
he
sprang
into
the
carriage
,
ordering
the
postilions
to
drive
to
M.
de
Saint
--
Meran
's
.
The
hapless
Dantes
was
doomed
.
As
the
marquis
had
promised
,
Villefort
found
the
marquise
and
Renee
in
waiting
.
He
started
when
he
saw
Renee
,
for
he
fancied
she
was
again
about
to
plead
for
Dantes
.
Alas
,
her
emotions
were
wholly
personal
:
she
was
thinking
only
of
Villefort
's
departure
.
She
loved
Villefort
,
and
he
left
her
at
the
moment
he
was
about
to
become
her
husband
.
Villefort
knew
not
when
he
should
return
,
and
Renee
,
far
from
pleading
for
Dantes
,
hated
the
man
whose
crime
separated
her
from
her
lover
.
Meanwhile
what
of
Mercedes
?
She
had
met
Fernand
at
the
corner
of
the
Rue
de
la
Loge
;
she
had
returned
to
the
Catalans
,
and
had
despairingly
cast
herself
on
her
couch
.
Fernand
,
kneeling
by
her
side
,
took
her
hand
,
and
covered
it
with
kisses
that
Mercedes
did
not
even
feel
.
She
passed
the
night
thus
.
The
lamp
went
out
for
want
of
oil
,
but
she
paid
no
heed
to
the
darkness
,
and
dawn
came
,
but
she
knew
not
that
it
was
day
.
Grief
had
made
her
blind
to
all
but
one
object
--
that
was
Edmond
.
"
Ah
,
you
are
there
,
"
said
she
,
at
length
,
turning
towards
Fernand
.
