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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 1242/1279
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"
Go
and
fetch
it
,
my
good
fellow
;
and
if
it
be
what
I
hope
,
you
will
do
well
.
"
"
I
will
run
for
it
,
sir
;
"
and
the
guide
went
out
.
Then
the
count
knelt
down
by
the
side
of
the
bed
,
which
death
had
converted
into
an
altar
.
"
Oh
,
second
father
,
"
he
exclaimed
,
"
thou
who
hast
given
me
liberty
,
knowledge
,
riches
;
thou
who
,
like
beings
of
a
superior
order
to
ourselves
,
couldst
understand
the
science
of
good
and
evil
;
if
in
the
depths
of
the
tomb
there
still
remain
something
within
us
which
can
respond
to
the
voice
of
those
who
are
left
on
earth
;
if
after
death
the
soul
ever
revisit
the
places
where
we
have
lived
and
suffered
--
then
,
noble
heart
,
sublime
soul
,
then
I
conjure
thee
by
the
paternal
love
thou
didst
bear
me
,
by
the
filial
obedience
I
vowed
to
thee
,
grant
me
some
sign
,
some
revelation
!
Remove
from
me
the
remains
of
doubt
,
which
,
if
it
change
not
to
conviction
,
must
become
remorse
!
"
The
count
bowed
his
head
,
and
clasped
his
hands
together
.
"
Here
,
sir
,
"
said
a
voice
behind
him
.
Monte
Cristo
shuddered
,
and
arose
.
The
concierge
held
out
the
strips
of
cloth
upon
which
the
Abbe
Faria
had
spread
the
riches
of
his
mind
.
The
manuscript
was
the
great
work
by
the
Abbe
Faria
upon
the
kingdoms
of
Italy
.
The
count
seized
it
hastily
,
his
eyes
immediately
fell
upon
the
epigraph
,
and
he
read
,
"
'
Thou
shalt
tear
out
the
dragons
'
teeth
,
and
shall
trample
the
lions
under
foot
,
saith
the
Lord
.
'
"
"
Ah
,
"
he
exclaimed
,
"
here
is
my
answer
.
Thanks
,
father
,
thanks
.
"
And
feeling
in
his
pocket
,
he
took
thence
a
small
pocket-book
,
which
contained
ten
bank-notes
,
each
of
1,000
.
francs
.
"
Here
,
"
he
said
,
"
take
this
pocket-book
.
"
"
Do
you
give
it
to
me
?
"
"
Yes
;
but
only
on
condition
that
you
will
not
open
it
till
I
am
gone
;
"
and
placing
in
his
breast
the
treasure
he
had
just
found
,
which
was
more
valuable
to
him
than
the
richest
jewel
,
he
rushed
out
of
the
corridor
,
and
reaching
his
boat
,
cried
,
"
To
Marseilles
!
"
Then
,
as
he
departed
,
he
fixed
his
eyes
upon
the
gloomy
prison
.
"
Woe
,
"
he
cried
,
"
to
those
who
confined
me
in
that
wretched
prison
;
and
woe
to
those
who
forgot
that
I
was
there
!
"
As
he
repassed
the
Catalans
,
the
count
turned
around
and
burying
his
head
in
his
cloak
murmured
the
name
of
a
woman
.
The
victory
was
complete
;
twice
he
had
overcome
his
doubts
.
The
name
he
pronounced
,
in
a
voice
of
tenderness
,
amounting
almost
to
love
,
was
that
of
Haidee
.
On
landing
,
the
count
turned
towards
the
cemetery
,
where
he
felt
sure
of
finding
Morrel
.
He
,
too
,
ten
years
ago
,
had
piously
sought
out
a
tomb
,
and
sought
it
vainly
.
He
,
who
returned
to
France
with
millions
,
had
been
unable
to
find
the
grave
of
his
father
,
who
had
perished
from
hunger
.
