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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 1167/1279
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"
Excuse
me
,
madame
,
but
I
must
go
up
to
Maximilian
's
room
this
instant
,
"
replied
Monte
Cristo
,
"
I
have
something
of
the
greatest
importance
to
tell
him
.
"
"
Go
,
then
,
"
she
said
with
a
charming
smile
,
which
accompanied
him
until
he
had
disappeared
.
Monte
Cristo
soon
ran
up
the
staircase
conducting
from
the
ground-floor
to
Maximilian
's
room
;
when
he
reached
the
landing
he
listened
attentively
,
but
all
was
still
.
Like
many
old
houses
occupied
by
a
single
family
,
the
room
door
was
panelled
with
glass
;
but
it
was
locked
,
Maximilian
was
shut
in
,
and
it
was
impossible
to
see
what
was
passing
in
the
room
,
because
a
red
curtain
was
drawn
before
the
glass
.
The
count
's
anxiety
was
manifested
by
a
bright
color
which
seldom
appeared
on
the
face
of
that
imperturbable
man
.
"
What
shall
I
do
!
"
he
uttered
,
and
reflected
for
a
moment
;
"
shall
I
ring
?
No
,
the
sound
of
a
bell
,
announcing
a
visitor
,
will
but
accelerate
the
resolution
of
one
in
Maximilian
's
situation
,
and
then
the
bell
would
be
followed
by
a
louder
noise
.
"
Monte
Cristo
trembled
from
head
to
foot
and
as
if
his
determination
had
been
taken
with
the
rapidity
of
lightning
,
he
struck
one
of
the
panes
of
glass
with
his
elbow
;
the
glass
was
shivered
to
atoms
,
then
withdrawing
the
curtain
he
saw
Morrel
,
who
had
been
writing
at
his
desk
,
bound
from
his
seat
at
the
noise
of
the
broken
window
.
"
I
beg
a
thousand
pardons
,
"
said
the
count
,
"
there
is
nothing
the
matter
,
but
I
slipped
down
and
broke
one
of
your
panes
of
glass
with
my
elbow
.
Since
it
is
opened
,
I
will
take
advantage
of
it
to
enter
your
room
;
do
not
disturb
yourself
--
do
not
disturb
yourself
!
"
And
passing
his
hand
through
the
broken
glass
,
the
count
opened
the
door
.
Morrel
,
evidently
discomposed
,
came
to
meet
Monte
Cristo
less
with
the
intention
of
receiving
him
than
to
exclude
his
entry
.
"
Ma
foi
,
"
said
Monte
Cristo
,
rubbing
his
elbow
,
"
it
's
all
your
servant
's
fault
;
your
stairs
are
so
polished
,
it
is
like
walking
on
glass
.
"
"
Are
you
hurt
,
sir
?
"
coldly
asked
Morrel
.
"
I
believe
not
.
But
what
are
you
about
there
?
You
were
writing
.
"
"
I
?
"
"
Your
fingers
are
stained
with
ink
.
"
"
Ah
,
true
,
I
was
writing
.
I
do
sometimes
,
soldier
though
I
am
.
"
Monte
Cristo
advanced
into
the
room
;
Maximilian
was
obliged
to
let
him
pass
,
but
he
followed
him
.
"
You
were
writing
?
"
said
Monte
Cristo
with
a
searching
look
.
