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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 1221/1279
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"
But
what
have
I
done
to
you
?
"
exclaimed
Villefort
,
whose
mind
was
balancing
between
reason
and
insanity
,
in
that
cloud
which
is
neither
a
dream
nor
reality
;
"
what
have
I
done
to
you
?
Tell
me
,
then
!
Speak
!
"
"
You
condemned
me
to
a
horrible
,
tedious
death
;
you
killed
my
father
;
you
deprived
me
of
liberty
,
of
love
,
and
happiness
.
"
"
Who
are
you
,
then
?
Who
are
you
?
"
"
I
am
the
spectre
of
a
wretch
you
buried
in
the
dungeons
of
the
Chateau
d'If
.
God
gave
that
spectre
the
form
of
the
Count
of
Monte
Cristo
when
he
at
length
issued
from
his
tomb
,
enriched
him
with
gold
and
diamonds
,
and
led
him
to
you
!
"
"
Ah
,
I
recognize
you
--
I
recognize
you
!
"
exclaimed
the
king
's
attorney
;
"
you
are
"
--
"
I
am
Edmond
Dantes
!
"
"
You
are
Edmond
Dantes
,
"
cried
Villefort
,
seizing
the
count
by
the
wrist
;
"
then
come
here
!
"
And
up
the
stairs
he
dragged
Monte
Cristo
;
who
,
ignorant
of
what
had
happened
,
followed
him
in
astonishment
,
foreseeing
some
new
catastrophe
.
"
There
,
Edmond
Dantes
!
"
he
said
,
pointing
to
the
bodies
of
his
wife
and
child
,
"
see
,
are
you
well
avenged
?
"
Monte
Cristo
became
pale
at
this
horrible
sight
;
he
felt
that
he
had
passed
beyond
the
bounds
of
vengeance
,
and
that
he
could
no
longer
say
,
"
God
is
for
and
with
me
.
"
With
an
expression
of
indescribable
anguish
he
threw
himself
upon
the
body
of
the
child
,
reopened
its
eyes
,
felt
its
pulse
,
and
then
rushed
with
him
into
Valentine
's
room
,
of
which
he
double-locked
the
door
.
"
My
child
,
"
cried
Villefort
,
"
he
carries
away
the
body
of
my
child
!
Oh
,
curses
,
woe
,
death
to
you
!
"
and
he
tried
to
follow
Monte
Cristo
;
but
as
though
in
a
dream
he
was
transfixed
to
the
spot
--
his
eyes
glared
as
though
they
were
starting
through
the
sockets
;
he
griped
the
flesh
on
his
chest
until
his
nails
were
stained
with
blood
;
the
veins
of
his
temples
swelled
and
boiled
as
though
they
would
burst
their
narrow
boundary
,
and
deluge
his
brain
with
living
fire
.
This
lasted
several
minutes
,
until
the
frightful
overturn
of
reason
was
accomplished
;
then
uttering
a
loud
cry
followed
by
a
burst
of
laughter
,
he
rushed
down
the
stairs
.
A
quarter
of
an
hour
afterwards
the
door
of
Valentine
's
room
opened
,
and
Monte
Cristo
reappeared
.
Pale
,
with
a
dull
eye
and
heavy
heart
,
all
the
noble
features
of
that
face
,
usually
so
calm
and
serene
,
were
overcast
by
grief
.
In
his
arms
he
held
the
child
,
whom
no
skill
had
been
able
to
recall
to
life
.
Bending
on
one
knee
,
he
placed
it
reverently
by
the
side
of
its
mother
,
with
its
head
upon
her
breast
.
Then
,
rising
,
he
went
out
,
and
meeting
a
servant
on
the
stairs
,
he
asked
,
"
Where
is
M.
de
Villefort
?
"
