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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 305/1279
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"
And
now
,
once
more
,
adieu
,
"
said
Morrel
.
"
Go
,
leave
me
;
I
would
be
alone
.
You
will
find
my
will
in
the
secretary
in
my
bedroom
.
"
The
young
man
remained
standing
and
motionless
,
having
but
the
force
of
will
and
not
the
power
of
execution
.
"
Hear
me
,
Maximilian
,
"
said
his
father
.
"
Suppose
I
was
a
soldier
like
you
,
and
ordered
to
carry
a
certain
redoubt
,
and
you
knew
I
must
be
killed
in
the
assault
,
would
you
not
say
to
me
,
as
you
said
just
now
,
'
Go
,
father
;
for
you
are
dishonored
by
delay
,
and
death
is
preferable
to
shame
!
'
"
"
Yes
,
yes
,
"
said
the
young
man
,
"
yes
;
"
and
once
again
embracing
his
father
with
convulsive
pressure
,
he
said
,
"
Be
it
so
,
my
father
.
"
And
he
rushed
out
of
the
study
.
When
his
son
had
left
him
,
Morrel
remained
an
instant
standing
with
his
eyes
fixed
on
the
door
;
then
putting
forth
his
arm
,
he
pulled
the
bell
.
After
a
moment
's
interval
,
Cocles
appeared
.
It
was
no
longer
the
same
man
--
the
fearful
revelations
of
the
three
last
days
had
crushed
him
.
This
thought
--
the
house
of
Morrel
is
about
to
stop
payment
--
bent
him
to
the
earth
more
than
twenty
years
would
otherwise
have
done
.
"
My
worthy
Cocles
,
"
said
Morrel
in
a
tone
impossible
to
describe
,
"
do
you
remain
in
the
ante-chamber
.
When
the
gentleman
who
came
three
months
ago
--
the
agent
of
Thomson
&
French
--
arrives
,
announce
his
arrival
to
me
.
"
Cocles
made
no
reply
;
he
made
a
sign
with
his
head
,
went
into
the
anteroom
,
and
seated
himself
.
Morrel
fell
back
in
his
chair
,
his
eyes
fixed
on
the
clock
;
there
were
seven
minutes
left
,
that
was
all
.
The
hand
moved
on
with
incredible
rapidity
,
he
seemed
to
see
its
motion
.
What
passed
in
the
mind
of
this
man
at
the
supreme
moment
of
his
agony
can
not
be
told
in
words
.
He
was
still
comparatively
young
,
he
was
surrounded
by
the
loving
care
of
a
devoted
family
,
but
he
had
convinced
himself
by
a
course
of
reasoning
,
illogical
perhaps
,
yet
certainly
plausible
,
that
he
must
separate
himself
from
all
he
held
dear
in
the
world
,
even
life
itself
.
To
form
the
slightest
idea
of
his
feelings
,
one
must
have
seen
his
face
with
its
expression
of
enforced
resignation
and
its
tear-moistened
eyes
raised
to
heaven
.
The
minute
hand
moved
on
.
The
pistols
were
loaded
;
he
stretched
forth
his
hand
,
took
one
up
,
and
murmured
his
daughter
's
name
.
Then
he
laid
it
down
seized
his
pen
,
and
wrote
a
few
words
.
It
seemed
to
him
as
if
he
had
not
taken
a
sufficient
farewell
of
his
beloved
daughter
.
Then
he
turned
again
to
the
clock
,
counting
time
now
not
by
minutes
,
but
by
seconds
.
He
took
up
the
deadly
weapon
again
,
his
lips
parted
and
his
eyes
fixed
on
the
clock
,
and
then
shuddered
at
the
click
of
the
trigger
as
he
cocked
the
pistol
.
At
this
moment
of
mortal
anguish
the
cold
sweat
came
forth
upon
his
brow
,
a
pang
stronger
than
death
clutched
at
his
heart-strings
.
