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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 927/1279
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"
I
believe
so
.
"
"
What
did
it
taste
like
?
"
"
It
had
a
bitter
taste
.
"
The
doctor
poured
some
drops
of
the
lemonade
into
the
palm
of
his
hand
,
put
his
lips
to
it
,
and
after
having
rinsed
his
mouth
as
a
man
does
when
he
is
tasting
wine
,
he
spat
the
liquor
into
the
fireplace
.
"
It
is
no
doubt
the
same
,
"
said
he
.
"
Did
you
drink
some
too
,
M.
Noirtier
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
And
did
you
also
discover
a
bitter
taste
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
Oh
,
doctor
,
"
cried
Barrois
,
"
the
fit
is
coming
on
again
.
Oh
,
do
something
for
me
.
"
The
doctor
flew
to
his
patient
.
"
That
emetic
,
Villefort
--
see
if
it
is
coming
.
"
Villefort
sprang
into
the
passage
,
exclaiming
,
"
The
emetic
!
the
emetic
!
--
is
it
come
yet
?
"
No
one
answered
.
The
most
profound
terror
reigned
throughout
the
house
.
"
If
I
had
anything
by
means
of
which
I
could
inflate
the
lungs
,
"
said
d'Avrigny
,
looking
around
him
,
"
perhaps
I
might
prevent
suffocation
.
But
there
is
nothing
which
would
do
--
nothing
!
"
"
Oh
,
sir
,
"
cried
Barrois
,
"
are
you
going
to
let
me
die
without
help
?
Oh
,
I
am
dying
!
Oh
,
save
me
!
"
