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- Авторы
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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 1274/1279
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Adieu
,
my
noble
and
generous
friend
,
adieu
;
I
will
go
and
tell
Valentine
what
you
have
done
for
me
.
"
And
slowly
,
though
without
any
hesitation
,
only
waiting
to
press
the
count
's
hand
fervently
,
he
swallowed
the
mysterious
substance
offered
by
Monte
Cristo
.
Then
they
were
both
silent
.
Ali
,
mute
and
attentive
,
brought
the
pipes
and
coffee
,
and
disappeared
.
By
degrees
,
the
light
of
the
lamps
gradually
faded
in
the
hands
of
the
marble
statues
which
held
them
,
and
the
perfumes
appeared
less
powerful
to
Morrel
.
Seated
opposite
to
him
,
Monte
Cristo
watched
him
in
the
shadow
,
and
Morrel
saw
nothing
but
the
bright
eyes
of
the
count
.
An
overpowering
sadness
took
possession
of
the
young
man
,
his
hands
relaxed
their
hold
,
the
objects
in
the
room
gradually
lost
their
form
and
color
,
and
his
disturbed
vision
seemed
to
perceive
doors
and
curtains
open
in
the
walls
.
"
Friend
,
"
he
cried
,
"
I
feel
that
I
am
dying
;
thanks
!
"
He
made
a
last
effort
to
extend
his
hand
,
but
it
fell
powerless
beside
him
.
Then
it
appeared
to
him
that
Monte
Cristo
smiled
,
not
with
the
strange
and
fearful
expression
which
had
sometimes
revealed
to
him
the
secrets
of
his
heart
,
but
with
the
benevolent
kindness
of
a
father
for
a
child
.
At
the
same
time
the
count
appeared
to
increase
in
stature
,
his
form
,
nearly
double
its
usual
height
,
stood
out
in
relief
against
the
red
tapestry
,
his
black
hair
was
thrown
back
,
and
he
stood
in
the
attitude
of
an
avenging
angel
.
Morrel
,
overpowered
,
turned
around
in
the
arm-chair
;
a
delicious
torpor
permeated
every
vein
.
A
change
of
ideas
presented
themselves
to
his
brain
,
like
a
new
design
on
the
kaleidoscope
.
Enervated
,
prostrate
,
and
breathless
,
he
became
unconscious
of
outward
objects
;
he
seemed
to
be
entering
that
vague
delirium
preceding
death
.
He
wished
once
again
to
press
the
count
's
hand
,
but
his
own
was
immovable
.
He
wished
to
articulate
a
last
farewell
,
but
his
tongue
lay
motionless
and
heavy
in
his
throat
,
like
a
stone
at
the
mouth
of
a
sepulchre
.
Involuntarily
his
languid
eyes
closed
,
and
still
through
his
eyelashes
a
well-known
form
seemed
to
move
amid
the
obscurity
with
which
he
thought
himself
enveloped
.
The
count
had
just
opened
a
door
.
Immediately
a
brilliant
light
from
the
next
room
,
or
rather
from
the
palace
adjoining
,
shone
upon
the
room
in
which
he
was
gently
gliding
into
his
last
sleep
.
Then
he
saw
a
woman
of
marvellous
beauty
appear
on
the
threshold
of
the
door
separating
the
two
rooms
.
Pale
,
and
sweetly
smiling
,
she
looked
like
an
angel
of
mercy
conjuring
the
angel
of
vengeance
.
"
Is
it
heaven
that
opens
before
me
?
"
thought
the
dying
man
;
"
that
angel
resembles
the
one
I
have
lost
.
"
Monte
Cristo
pointed
out
Morrel
to
the
young
woman
,
who
advanced
towards
him
with
clasped
hands
and
a
smile
upon
her
lips
.
"
Valentine
,
Valentine
!
"
he
mentally
ejaculated
;
but
his
lips
uttered
no
sound
,
and
as
though
all
his
strength
were
centred
in
that
internal
emotion
,
he
sighed
and
closed
his
eyes
.
Valentine
rushed
towards
him
;
his
lips
again
moved
.
"
He
is
calling
you
,
"
said
the
count
;
"
he
to
whom
you
have
confided
your
destiny
--
he
from
whom
death
would
have
separated
you
,
calls
you
to
him
.
Happily
,
I
vanquished
death
.
Henceforth
,
Valentine
,
you
will
never
again
be
separated
on
earth
,
since
he
has
rushed
into
death
to
find
you
.
Without
me
,
you
would
both
have
died
.
May
God
accept
my
atonement
in
the
preservation
of
these
two
existences
!
"
Valentine
seized
the
count
's
hand
,
and
in
her
irresistible
impulse
of
joy
carried
it
to
her
lips
.
"
Oh
,
thank
me
again
!
"
said
the
count
;
"
tell
me
till
you
are
weary
,
that
I
have
restored
you
to
happiness
;
you
do
not
know
how
much
I
require
this
assurance
.
"
"
Oh
,
yes
,
yes
,
I
thank
you
with
all
my
heart
,
"
said
Valentine
;
"
and
if
you
doubt
the
sincerity
of
my
gratitude
,
oh
,
then
,
ask
Haidee
!
ask
my
beloved
sister
Haidee
,
who
ever
since
our
departure
from
France
,
has
caused
me
to
wait
patiently
for
this
happy
day
,
while
talking
to
me
of
you
.
"
"
You
then
love
Haidee
?
"
asked
Monte
Cristo
with
an
emotion
he
in
vain
endeavored
to
dissimulate
.
