《基督山伯爵》第105章 公墓
M. DE BOVILLE had indeed met the funeral procession which was taking Valentine to her last home on earth. The weather was dull and stormy, a cold wind shook the few remaining yellow leaves from the boughs of the trees, and scattered them among the crowd which filled the boulevards. M. de Villefort, a true Parisian, considered the cemetery of P猫re-la-Chaise alone worthy of receiving the mortal remains of a Parisian family; there alone the corpses belonging to him would be surrounded by worthy associates. He had therefore purchased a vault, which was quickly occupied by members of his family. On the front of the monument was inscribed: "The families of Saint-M茅ran and Villefort," for such had been the last wish expressed by poor Ren茅e, Valentine's mother. The pompous procession therefore wended its way towards P猫re-la-Chaise from the Faubourg Saint-Honor茅. Having crossed Paris, it passed through the Faubourg du Temple, then leaving the exterior boulevards, it reached the cemetery. More than fifty private carriages followed the twenty mourning-coaches, and behind them more than five hundred persons joined in the procession on foot.
These last consisted of all the young people whom Valentine's death had struck like a thunderbolt, and who, notwithstanding the raw chilliness of the season, could not refrain from paying a last tribute to the memory of the beautiful, chaste, and adorable girl, thus cut off in the flower of her youth. As they left Paris, an equipage with four horses, at full speed, was seen to draw up suddenly; it contained Monte Cristo. The count left the carriage and mingled in the crowd who followed on foot. Chateau-Renaud perceived him and immediately alighting from his coup茅, joined him.
The count looked attentively through every opening in the crowd; he was evidently watching for some one, but his search ended in disappointment. "Where is Morrel?" he asked; "do either of these gentlemen know where he is?"
"We have already asked that question," said Chateau-Renaud, "for none of us has seen him." The count was silent, but continued to gaze around him. At length they arrived at the cemetery. The piercing eye of Monte Cristo glanced through clusters of bushes and trees, and was soon relieved from all anxiety, for seeing a shadow glide between the yew-trees, Monte Cristo recognized him whom he sought. One funeral is generally very much like another in this magnificent metropolis. Black figures are seen scattered over the long white avenues; the silence of earth and heaven is alone broken by the noise made by the crackling branches of hedges planted around the monuments; then follows the melancholy chant of the priests, mingled now and then with a sob of anguish, escaping from some woman concealed behind a mass of flowers.
The shadow Monte Cristo had noticed passed rapidly behind the tomb of Abelard and H茅lo?se, placed itself close to the heads of the horses belonging to the hearse, and following the undertaker's men, arrived with them at the spot appointed for the burial. Each person's attention was occupied. Monte Cristo saw nothing but the shadow, which no one else observed. Twice the count left the ranks to see whether the object of his interest had any concealed weapon beneath his clothes. When the procession stopped, this shadow was recognized as Morrel, who, with his coat buttoned up to his throat, his face livid, and convulsively crushing his hat between his fingers, leaned against a tree, situated on an elevation commanding the mausoleum, so that none of the funeral details could escape his observation. Everything was conducted in the usual manner. A few men, the least impressed of all by the scene, pronounced a discourse, some deploring this premature death, others expatiating on the grief of the father, and one very ingenious person quoting the fact that Valentine had solicited pardon of her father for criminals on whom the arm of justice was ready to fall--until at length they exhausted their stores of metaphor and mournful speeches.
Monte Cristo heard and saw nothing, or rather he only saw Morrel, whose calmness had a frightful effect on those who knew what was passing in his heart. "See," said Beauchamp, pointing out Morrel to Debray. "What is he doing up there?" And they called Chateau-Renaud's attention to him.
"How pale he is!" said Chateau-Renaud, shuddering.
"He is cold," said Debray.
"Not at all," said Chateau-Renaud, slowly; "I think he is violently agitated. He is very susceptible."
"Bah," said Debray; "he scarcely knew Mademoiselle de Villefort; you said so yourself."
"True. Still I remember he danced three times with her at Madame de Morcerf's. Do you recollect that ball, count, where you produced such an effect?"
"No, I do not," replied Monte Cristo, without even knowing of what or to whom he was speaking, so much was he occupied in watching Morrel, who was holding his breath with emotion. "The discourse is over; farewell, gentlemen," said the count. And he disappeared without anyone seeing whither he went. The funeral being over, the guests returned to Paris. Chateau-Renaud looked for a moment for Morrel; but while they were watching the departure of the count, Morrel had quitted his post, and Chateau-Renaud, failing in his search, joined Debray and Beauchamp.
Monte Cristo concealed himself behind a large tomb and awaited the arrival of Morrel, who by degrees approached the tomb now abandoned by spectators and workmen. Morrel threw a glance around, but before it reached the spot occupied by Monte Cristo the latter had advanced yet nearer, still unperceived. The young man knelt down. The count, with outstretched neck and glaring eyes, stood in an attitude ready to pounce upon Morrel upon the first occasion. Morrel bent his head till it touched the stone, then clutching the grating with both hands, he murmured,--"Oh, Valentine!" The count's heart was pierced by the utterance of these two words; he stepped forward, and touching the young man's shoulder, said,--"I was looking for you, my friend." Monte Cristo expected a burst of passion, but he was deceived, for Morrel turning round, said calmly,--
"You see I was praying." The scrutinizing glance of the count searched the young man from head to foot. He then seemed more easy.
"Shall I drive you back to Paris?" he asked.
"No, thank you."
"Do you wish anything?"
"Leave me to pray." The count withdrew without opposition, but it was only to place himself in a situation where he could watch every movement of Morrel, who at length arose, brushed the dust from his knees, and turned towards Paris, without once looking back. He walked slowly down the Rue de la Roquette. The count, dismissing his carriage, followed him about a hundred paces behind. Maximilian crossed the canal and entered the Rue Meslay by the boulevards. Five minutes after the door had been closed on Morrel's entrance, it was again opened for the count. Julie was at the entrance of the garden, where she was attentively watching Penelon, who, entering with zeal into his profession of gardener, was very busy grafting some Bengal roses. "Ah, count," she exclaimed, with the delight manifested by every member of the family whenever he visited the Rue Meslay.
"Maximilian has just returned, has he not, madame?" asked the count.
"Yes, I think I saw him pass; but pray, call Emmanuel."
"Excuse me, madame, but I must go up to Maximilian's room this instant," replied Monte Cristo, "I have something of the greatest importance to tell him."
"Go, then," she said with a charming smile, which accompanied him until he had disappeared. Monte Cristo soon ran up the staircase conducting from the ground-floor to Maximilian's room; when he reached the landing he listened attentively, but all was still. Like many old houses occupied by a single family, the room door was panelled with glass; but it was locked, Maximilian was shut in, and it was impossible to see what was passing in the room, because a red curtain was drawn before the glass. The count's anxiety was manifested by a bright color which seldom appeared on the face of that imperturbable man.
"What shall I do!" he uttered, and reflected for a moment; "shall I ring? No, the sound of a bell, announcing a visitor, will but accelerate the resolution of one in Maximilian's situation, and then the bell would be followed by a louder noise." Monte Cristo trembled from head to foot and as if his determination had been taken with the rapidity of lightning, he struck one of the panes of glass with his elbow; the glass was shivered to atoms, then withdrawing the curtain he saw Morrel, who had been writing at his desk, bound from his seat at the noise of the broken window.
"I beg a thousand pardons," said the count, "there is nothing the matter, but I slipped down and broke one of your panes of glass with my elbow. Since it is opened, I will take advantage of it to enter your room; do not disturb yourself--do not disturb yourself!" And passing his hand through the broken glass, the count opened the door. Morrel, evidently discomposed, came to meet Monte Cristo less with the intention of receiving him than to exclude his entry.
"Ma foi!" said Monte Cristo, rubbing his elbow, "it's all your servant's fault; your stairs are so polished, it is like walking on glass."
"Are you hurt, sir?" coldly asked Morrel.
"I believe not. But what are you about there? You were writing."
"I?"
"Your fingers are stained with ink."
"Ah, true, I was writing. I do sometimes, soldier though I am."
Monte Cristo advanced into the room; Maximilian was obliged to let him pass, but he followed him. "You were writing?" said Monte Cristo with a searching look.
"I have already had the honor of telling you I was," said Morrel.
The count looked around him. "Your pistols are beside your desk," said Monte Cristo, pointing with his finger to the pistols on the table.
"I am on the point of starting on a journey," replied Morrel disdainfully.
"My friend," exclaimed Monte Cristo in a tone of exquisite sweetness.
"Sir?"
"My friend, my dear Maximilian, do not make a hasty resolution, I entreat you."
"I make a hasty resolution?" said Morrel, shrugging his shoulders; "is there anything extraordinary in a journey?"
"Maximilian," said the count, "let us both lay aside the mask we have assumed. You no more deceive me with that false calmness than I impose upon you with my frivolous solicitude. You can understand, can you not, that to have acted as I have done, to have broken that glass, to have intruded on the solitude of a friend--you can understand that, to have done all this, I must have been actuated by real uneasiness, or rather by a terrible conviction. Morrel, you are going to destroy yourself!"
"Indeed, count," said Morrel, shuddering; "what has put this into your head?"
"I tell you that you are about to destroy yourself," continued the count, "and here is proof of what I say;" and, approaching the desk, he removed the sheet of paper which Morrel had placed over the letter he had begun, and took the latter in his hands.
Morrel rushed forward to tear it from him, but Monte Cristo perceiving his intention, seized his wrist with his iron grasp. "You wish to destroy yourself," said the count; "you have written it."
"Well," said Morrel, changing his expression of calmness for one of violence--"well, and if I do intend to turn this pistol against myself, who shall prevent me--who will dare prevent me? All my hopes are blighted, my heart is broken, my life a burden, everything around me is sad and mournful; earth has become distasteful to me, and human voices distract me. It is a mercy to let me die, for if I live I shall lose my reason and become mad. When, sir, I tell you all this with tears of heartfelt anguish, can you reply that I am wrong, can you prevent my putting an end to my miserable existence? Tell me, sir, could you have the courage to do so?"
"Yes, Morrel," said Monte Cristo, with a calmness which contrasted strangely with the young man's excitement; "yes, I would do so."
"You?" exclaimed Morrel, with increasing anger and reproach--"you, who have deceived me with false hopes, who have cheered and soothed me with vain promises, when I might, if not have saved her, at least have seen her die in my arms! You, who pretend to understand everything, even the hidden sources of knowledge,--and who enact the part of a guardian angel upon earth, and could not even find an antidote to a poison administered to a young girl! Ah, sir, indeed you would inspire me with pity, were you not hateful in my eyes."
"Morrel"--
"Yes; you tell me to lay aside the mask, and I will do so, be satisfied! When you spoke to me at the cemetery, I answered you--my heart was softened; when you arrived here, I allowed you to enter. But since you abuse my confidence, since you have devised a new torture after I thought I had exhausted them all, then, Count of Monte Cristo my pretended benefactor--then, Count of Monte Cristo, the universal guardian, be satisfied, you shall witness the death of your friend;" and Morrel, with a maniacal laugh, again rushed towards the pistols.
"And I again repeat, you shall not commit suicide."
"Prevent me, then!" replied Morrel, with another struggle, which, like the first, failed in releasing him from the count's iron grasp.
"I will prevent you."
"And who are you, then, that arrogate to yourself this tyrannical right over free and rational beings?"
"Who am I?" repeated Monte Cristo. "Listen; I am the only man in the world having the right to say to you, 'Morrel, your father's son shall not die to-day;'" and Monte Cristo, with an expression of majesty and sublimity, advanced with arms folded toward the young man, who, involuntarily overcome by the commanding manner of this man, recoiled a step.
"Why do you mention my father?" stammered he; "why do you mingle a recollection of him with the affairs of today?"
"Because I am he who saved your father's life when he wished to destroy himself, as you do to-day--because I am the man who sent the purse to your young sister, and the Pharaon to old Morrel--because I am the Edmond Dant猫s who nursed you, a child, on my knees." Morrel made another step back, staggering, breathless, crushed; then all his strength give way, and he fell prostrate at the feet of Monte Cristo. Then his admirable nature underwent a complete and sudden revulsion; he arose, rushed out of the room and to the stairs, exclaiming energetically, "Julie, Julie--Emmanuel, Emmanuel!"
Monte Cristo endeavored also to leave, but Maximilian would have died rather than relax his hold of the handle of the door, which he closed upon the count. Julie, Emmanuel, and some of the servants, ran up in alarm on hearing the cries of Maximilian. Morrel seized their hands, and opening the door exclaimed in a voice choked with sobs, "On your knees--on your knees--he is our benefactor--the saviour of our father! He is"--
He would have added "Edmond Dant猫s," but the count seized his arm and prevented him. Julie threw herself into the arms of the count; Emmanuel embraced him as a guardian angel; Morrel again fell on his knees, and struck the ground with his forehead. Then the iron-hearted man felt his heart swell in his breast; a flame seemed to rush from his throat to his eyes, he bent his head and wept. For a while nothing was heard in the room but a succession of sobs, while the incense from their grateful hearts mounted to heaven. Julie had scarcely recovered from her deep emotion when she rushed out of the room, descended to the next floor, ran into the drawing-room with childlike joy and raised the crystal globe which covered the purse given by the unknown of the All茅es de Meillan. Meanwhile, Emmanuel in a broken voice said to the count, "Oh, count, how could you, hearing us so often speak of our unknown benefactor, seeing us pay such homage of gratitude and adoration to his memory,--how could you continue so long without discovering yourself to us? Oh, it was cruel to us, and--dare I say it?--to you also."
"Listen, my friends," said the count--"I may call you so since we have really been friends for the last eleven years--the discovery of this secret has been occasioned by a great event which you must never know. I wish to bury it during my whole life in my own bosom, but your brother Maximilian wrested it from me by a violence he repents of now, I am sure." Then turning around, and seeing that Morrel, still on his knees, had thrown himself into an arm-chair, be added in a low voice, pressing Emmanuel's hand significantly, "Watch over him."
"Why so?" asked the young man, surprised.
"I cannot explain myself; but watch over him." Emmanuel looked around the room and caught sight of the pistols; his eyes rested on the weapons, and he pointed to them. Monte Cristo bent his head. Emmanuel went towards the pistols. "Leave them," said Monte Cristo. Then walking towards Morrel, he took his hand; the tumultuous agitation of the young man was succeeded by a profound stupor. Julie returned, holding the silken purse in her hands, while tears of joy rolled down her cheeks, like dewdrops on the rose.
"Here is the relic," she said; "do not think it will be less dear to us now we are acquainted with our benefactor!"
"My child," said Monte Cristo, coloring, "allow me to take back that purse? Since you now know my face, I wish to be remembered alone through the affection I hope you will grant me.
"Oh," said Julie, pressing the purse to her heart, "no, no, I beseech you do not take it, for some unhappy day you will leave us, will you not?"
"You have guessed rightly, madame," replied Monte Cristo, smiling; "in a week I shall have left this country, where so many persons who merit the vengeance of heaven lived happily, while my father perished of hunger and grief." While announcing his departure, the count fixed his eyes on Morrel, and remarked that the words, "I shall have left this country," had failed to rouse him from his lethargy. He then saw that he must make another struggle against the grief of his friend, and taking the hands of Emmanuel and Julie, which he pressed within his own, he said with the mild authority of a father, "My kind friends, leave me alone with Maximilian." Julie saw the means offered of carrying off her precious relic, which Monte Cristo had forgotten. She drew her husband to the door. "Let us leave them," she said. The count was alone with Morrel, who remained motionless as a statue.
"Come," said Monte-Cristo, touching his shoulder with his finger, "are you a man again, Maximilian?"
"Yes; for I begin to suffer again."
The count frowned, apparently in gloomy hesitation.
"Maximilian, Maximilian," he said, "the ideas you yield to are unworthy of a Christian."
"Oh, do not fear, my friend," said Morrel, raising his head, and smiling with a sweet expression on the count; "I shall no longer attempt my life."
"Then we are to have no more pistols--no more despair?"
"No; I have found a better remedy for my grief than either a bullet or a knife."
"Poor fellow, what is it?"
"My grief will kill me of itself."
"My friend," said Monte Cristo, with an expression of melancholy equal to his own, "listen to me. One day, in a moment of despair like yours, since it led to a similar resolution, I also wished to kill myself; one day your father, equally desperate, wished to kill himself too. If any one had said to your father, at the moment he raised the pistol to his head--if any one had told me, when in my prison I pushed back the food I had not tasted for three days--if anyone had said to either of us then, 'Live--the day will come when you will be happy, and will bless life!'--no matter whose voice had spoken, we should have heard him with the smile of doubt, or the anguish of incredulity,--and yet how many times has your father blessed life while embracing you--how often have I myself" --
"Ah," exclaimed Morrel, interrupting the count, "you had only lost your liberty, my father had only lost his fortune, but I have lost Valentine."
"Look at me," said Monte Cristo, with that expression which sometimes made him so eloquent and persuasive--"look at me. There are no tears in my eyes, nor is there fever in my veins, yet I see you suffer--you, Maximilian, whom I love as my own son. Well, does not this tell you that in grief, as in life, there is always something to look forward to beyond? Now, if I entreat, if I order you to live, Morrel, it is in the conviction that one day you will thank me for having preserved your life."
"Oh, heavens," said the young man, "oh, heavens--what are you saying, count? Take care. But perhaps you have never loved!"
"Child!" replied the count.
"I mean, as I love. You see, I have been a soldier ever since I attained manhood. I reached the age of twenty-nine without loving, for none of the feelings I before then experienced merit the apellation of love. Well, at twenty-nine I saw Valentine; for two years I have loved her, for two years I have seen written in her heart, as in a book, all the virtues of a daughter and wife. Count, to possess Valentine would have been a happiness too infinite, too ecstatic, too complete, too divine for this world, since it has been denied me; but without Valentine the earth is desolate."
"I have told you to hope," said the count.
"Then have a care, I repeat, for you seek to persuade me, and if you succeed I should lose my reason, for I should hope that I could again behold Valentine." The count smiled. "My friend, my father," said Morrel with excitement, "have a care, I again repeat, for the power you wield over me alarms me. Weigh your words before you speak, for my eyes have already become brighter, and my heart beats strongly; be cautious, or you will make me believe in supernatural agencies. I must obey you, though you bade me call forth the dead or walk upon the water."
"Hope, my friend," repeated the count.
"Ah," said Morrel, falling from the height of excitement to the abyss of despair--"ah, you are playing with me, like those good, or rather selfish mothers who soothe their children with honeyed words, because their screams annoy them. No, my friend, I was wrong to caution you; do not fear, I will bury my grief so deep in my heart, I will disguise it so, that you shall not even care to sympathize with me. Adieu, my friend, adieu!"
"On the contrary," said the count, "after this time you must live with me--you must not leave me, and in a week we shall have left France behind us."
"And you still bid me hope?"
"I tell you to hope, because I have a method of curing you."
"Count, you render me sadder than before, if it be possible. You think the result of this blow has been to produce an ordinary grief, and you would cure it by an ordinary remedy--change of scene." And Morrel dropped his head with disdainful incredulity. "What can I say more?" asked Monte Cristo. "I have confidence in the remedy I propose, and only ask you to permit me to assure you of its efficacy."
"Count, you prolong my agony."
"Then," said the count, "your feeble spirit will not even grant me the trial I request? Come--do you know of what the Count of Monte Cristo is capable? do you know that he holds terrestrial beings under his control? nay, that he can almost work a miracle? Well, wait for the miracle I hope to accomplish, or"--
"Or?" repeated Morrel.
"Or, take care, Morrel, lest I call you ungrateful."
"Have pity on me, count!"
"I feel so much pity towards you, Maximilian, that--listen to me attentively--if I do not cure you in a month, to the day, to the very hour, mark my words, Morrel, I will place loaded pistols before you, and a cup of the deadliest Italian poison--a poison more sure and prompt than that which has killed Valentine."
"Will you promise me?"
"Yes; for I am a man, and have suffered like yourself, and also contemplated suicide; indeed, often since misfortune has left me I have longed for the delights of an eternal sleep."
"But you are sure you will promise me this?" said Morrel, intoxicated. "I not only promise, but swear it!" said Monte Cristo extending his hand.
"In a month, then, on your honor, if I am not consoled, you will let me take my life into my own hands, and whatever may happen you will not call me ungrateful?"
"In a month, to the day, the very hour and the date are sacred, Maximilian. I do not know whether you remember that this is the 5th of September; it is ten years to-day since I saved your father's life, who wished to die." Morrel seized the count's hand and kissed it; the count allowed him to pay the homage he felt due to him. "In a month you will find on the table, at which we shall be then sitting, good pistols and a delicious draught; but, on the other hand, you must promise me not to attempt your life before that time."
"Oh, I also swear it!" Monte Cristo drew the young man towards him, and pressed him for some time to his heart. "And now," he said, "after to-day, you will come and live with me; you can occupy Haid茅e's apartment, and my daughter will at least be replaced by my son."
"Haid茅e?" said Morrel, "what has become of her?"
"She departed last night."
"To leave you?"
"To wait for me. Hold yourself ready then to join me at the Champs Elys茅es, and lead me out of this house without any one seeing my departure." Maximilian hung his head, and obeyed with childlike reverence.
波维里先生确实曾在路上遇到过送瓦朗蒂娜去最后归宿的行列。天空阴霾多云。一阵寒风吹过,树枝上残剩的黄叶,被吹得散落在那塞满马路的人群中间。维尔福先生是一个十足的巴黎人,他认为只有拉雪兹神父墓地才配得上接受一个巴黎家庭成员的遗体,只有在那儿,死者的灵魂才能得到真正的安息。所以他在那儿买下了一块永久性墓地,很快那坟地被他的家属占据了。墓碑的下面刻着鈥準路米兰维尔福家族鈥潱蛭馐强闪睦瞿葩斺斖呃实倌鹊哪盖租斺斄僦帐弊詈蟮脑竿K阅亲系乃烷胄辛芯痛邮路奥诺路出发向拉雪兹神父墓地前进。队伍横越过巴黎市区以后,穿过寺院路,然后离开郊外的马路,到达坟场。打头的是三十辆丧车,五十多辆私家马车跟在后面,在马车后面,跟着五百多个步行的人。最后这一群人都是青年男女,瓦朗蒂娜的死对他们无疑是晴天霹雳;天气虽然阴沉寒冷,仍不能阻止人送那美丽、纯洁、可爱、在这如花之年夭折的姑娘。离开巴黎市区时候,突然一辆由四匹马拉的车疾驶而来,马车里的人是基督山。伯爵从车子里出来,混在步行的人群里。夏多路勒诺看见他,便立刻从自己四轮马车上下来,去和他走在一起。波尚也离开他所乘的那辆轻便马车走过来。伯爵在人丛里仔细地看来看去,他显然在找人。鈥溎锥谀亩库澦实溃溎忝撬浪谀亩穑库
鈥溛颐窃谏ゼ业跹涫本鸵丫使飧鑫侍饬耍澫亩路勒诺说,鈥溡蛭颐侵屑涿挥屑b
伯爵一声不吭,但继续向四下里瞧着。送殡行列到达坟场了。基督山那敏锐的目光突然向树丛里望去,不一会他焦急不安的神情消失了,因为他看见一个人影在紫杉树间闪过,并认出那个人影就是他要找的人。
在这个豪华的大都市里的丧葬情形,人家想必都知道。黑压压的人群分散地站在白色的墓道上,天地间一片寂静,只有那围绕墓碑的篱笆竹偶尔的折断声打破寂静,然后神父用抑郁而单调的声调诵经,其中还不时杂着一声女人发出来的啜泣声。基督山注意到的那个人影迅速绕到亚比拉和哀绿伊丝[指法国神学家亚比拉(一○七九 鈥斠灰凰亩┖退蛋纳倥桃了俊b斺斠胱ⅲ莸姆啬购竺妫借殉档穆硗放员撸胨勒叩募父銎腿艘煌酱镏付ǖ哪寡ǜ啊H嗣堑淖⒁饬Χ技性谀寡ㄉ稀;缴饺粗蛔⒁饽歉鋈擞啊2粲辛酱巫叱鲂辛校氖强辞逅厍械哪歉鋈司烤褂忻挥性谝路紫虏刈盼淦鳌5遍朐嵝辛型O碌氖焙颍梢钥辞迥歉鋈耸悄锥:谏穹呐垡恢笨鄣津ハ隆K成园祝仿蔚氖种附艚舻刈プ∶弊樱镜揭豢榭梢钥辞宸啬沟母叩厣希笨吭谝豢檬魃希醋湃胙ǖ拿恳桓鱿附凇R磺薪姓!D承┎灰锥榈娜讼笸R谎⒈硪恍┭萁测斺斢械亩允耪叩呢舱郏硎就椋械木透盖椎纳诵馁┵┒福挥行┳砸晕浅4厦鞯娜嘶顾担飧銮嗄昱稍复蜗蛩母盖浊笄椋笏硭∧切┘唇芊沙痛Φ淖锓福徽庋恢苯驳剿呛木∷悄切┓崦赖拇试逦埂
基督山什么也没有听,什么也没有看见,或是,说得准确些,他只注意莫雷尔,莫雷尔那种镇定的态度他那些知道他心事的人看着都忍不住异常担心。
鈥溈矗澆ㄉ兄敢恢改锥缘虏祭姿担溗谀嵌墒裁矗库
鈥溗牧成娌园籽剑♀澫亩路勒诺说,不禁打了一个寒颤。
鈥溗芰沽耍♀澋虏祭姿怠
鈥溇霾皇堑模澫亩路勒诺慢慢地说,鈥溛蚁胨切睦镆欢ǚ浅D咽堋K幌蚴欠浅6喑钌聘械摹b
鈥湴Γ♀澋虏祭姿担溎闼倒蝗鲜段P〗阊剑≡趺椿嵛诵哪兀库
鈥湶淮恚墒牵壹堑盟诼矶蚍蛉思依锖臀P〗闾挝琛D辜堑媚谴挝杌崧穑簦磕谀谴翁杌嵘夏茄俗⒛俊b
鈥湶唬壹遣坏昧耍澔缴交卮穑静恢浪窃谒凳裁矗斺斔窆嶙⒌刈⒁庾拍锥锥孟蠹ざ煤粑纪V沽恕b溠萁餐炅耍倩幔钗唬澆羲怠K碜吡耍挥腥丝醇侥亩チ恕T崂窠崾耍幢雒欠追谆匕屠枞ァO亩路勒诺四寻找莫雷尔,当他在寻找伯爵的时候,莫雷尔已经挪了地方,夏多路勒诺再回头已不见了莫雷尔,便去追上德布雷和波尚。
基督山躲在一座大坟后面等着莫雷尔;莫雷尔走近那座刚建好但已被旁观者和工匠所遗弃的坟墓。他神情茫然地向四周环顾,当他的目光离开基督山所躲藏的那个圆形墓地,基督山已走到离他十来步远的地方,年青人却仍没有发现他。年轻人在墓前跪了下来。伯爵走到莫雷尔身后,伸长脖子,他膝盖弯曲,象是随时都会扑到莫雷尔身上去的,莫雷尔低着头,直到头接触到石板,然后双手抓住栅栏,他喃喃说道:鈥溹蓿呃实倌饶模♀
这几个字使伯爵的心都碎了,他走上去,扶住那青年人的肩头,说:鈥準悄悖装呐笥眩艺谡夷恪b
基督山本来以为莫雷尔一看到他会痛哭流涕,会对他大发雷霆,但他错了,莫雷尔回过头来,很平静的对他说:鈥溎憧醇宋以谄淼弧b
伯爵用疑惑的眼光把那年轻人从头到脚打量了一番。然后他似乎比较放心了。鈥溡矣贸底铀湍慊匕屠杪穑库澦省
鈥湶唬恍荒恪b
鈥溎阋墒裁绰穑库
鈥溔梦移淼弧b
伯爵并不反对,他只躲到一边,注视着莫雷尔的一举一动。莫雷尔终于站起来,拂去膝头的灰尘,然后头也不回地走上回巴黎的路。他顺着罗琪里路慢慢向回走。伯爵不乘马车,在他的身后约一百步左右步行尾随着他。马西米兰穿过运河,沿着林荫大道折回了密斯雷路。莫雷尔到家五分钟以后,伯爵便赶到了。尤莉站在花园的进口,全神贯注地看园丁为一棵孟加拉玫瑰接枝。鈥湴。缴讲簦♀澦暗馈K看卫捶梦拭芩估茁返氖焙颍飧黾彝ダ锏拿恳桓龀稍倍蓟嵴饷椿断菜
鈥溌砦髅桌几詹呕乩矗锹穑蛉耍库澆粑实馈
鈥準堑模液孟罂醇サ模灰ソ邪囱健b
鈥湺圆黄穑蛉耍冶匦肼砩系铰砦髅桌嫉姆考淅锶ィ澔缴酱鸬溃溛矣兄匾氖虑橐嫠咚b
鈥溎敲辞氚伞b澦⑿ψ潘担克退г诼ヌ菘凇;缴奖忌贤ǖ铰砦髅桌挤考淙サ穆ヌ荩坏搅寺ヌ荻ヒ院螅羯袂闾挥腥魏味病8矶喽兰易〉睦衔菀谎舛姆棵派献白挪AЦ褡印7棵陪抛牛砦髅桌及炎约汗卦诜考淅铮AЦ窈竺嬲谧藕焐拿帕薄N薹ㄖ浪诜考淅锔墒裁矗袅扯己炝耍蟛粽庋桓鲇刑话阈某Φ娜耸遣蝗菀锥榈摹b溛以趺窗炷兀库澦话驳刈杂铩K肓艘换岫b溛依迓穑坎唬迳换崾孤砦髅桌际敌兴男卸鞘绷迳突嵊闪硪恢稚衾椿卮稹b澦肷矸⒍叮榧敝巧檬直圩菜榱艘桓癫AВ婧笏帕保醇锥谑樽郎闲炊鳎讲AЦ衿扑榈纳簦幼簧咸似鹄础
鈥溡磺Ц龆圆黄穑♀澆羲担溍挥惺裁矗皇俏一艘幌拢业氖种獠恍⌒睦蛊屏艘桓癫AА<热徊AТ蚱屏耍茨愕姆考淅锒阅憬舶伞D悴槐鼐蹋♀澆舸幽谴蚱频牟AЦ窭锷旖掷矗蚩四欠棵拧
莫雷尔神情不快地向基督山迎上来,但他不是来迎接他,而是要阻止他进来。
鈥満伲♀澔缴讲磷抛约旱氖种馑担溦馐悄闫腿说墓恚涯愕穆ヌ莶恋谜庋拖笞咴诓A弦谎b
鈥溎闩錾肆寺穑笙拢库澞锥淅涞匚省
鈥溛蚁朊挥小D阍谛词裁囱剑磕阍谛次恼侣穑库
鈥溛遥库
鈥溎愕氖种干先咀拍b
鈥湴。淮恚以谛炊鳌N宜淙皇且桓鼍耍械氖焙蛉聪不抖省b
基督山走进房间里,马西米兰无法阻止他了,但他跟在伯爵身后。
鈥溎阍谛次恼侣穑库澔缴接钟媚抗獗剖幼哦苑健
鈥溛乙丫嫠吖懔恕b澞锥怠
伯爵向四周看了一下。鈥溎愕氖智乖趺捶旁谛醋痔ㄉ希库澔缴街缸攀樽郎系氖智顾怠
鈥溛揖鸵雒湃ヂ眯辛恕b澞锥鸬馈
鈥溛业呐笥眩♀澔缴接靡恢址浅S押每谖呛暗馈
鈥湼笙拢♀
鈥溛业呐笥眩仪装穆砦髅桌迹灰鞔颐Φ木龆ǎ仪笄竽恪b
鈥溛易鞔颐Φ木龆ǎ库澞锥仕始缢担湷雒湃ヂ眯幸淮斡惺裁雌婀帜兀库
鈥溌砦髅桌迹澆羲担溔梦颐欠畔挛颐堑募倜婢摺D悴灰儆媚侵旨僬蚨ɡ雌遥乙膊挥迷俣阅阕俺龆肥降墓鼗场D愕比幻靼孜腋詹抛财撇4埃蛉乓晃慌笥眩艺馑哉饷醋觯且蛭一匙偶鹊牟话玻蛘咚档酶非行腔匙乓恢挚膳碌娜沸拧D锥阆胱陨保♀
鈥湶簦♀澞锥蛄艘桓龊担溎阍趺椿嵊姓庵窒敕ǎ库
鈥溛腋嫠吣悖闶窍胱陨保澆艏绦担溦饩褪侵ぞ荨b
他走到写字台前,把莫雷尔遮住的那张纸拿开,把那封信拿在手里。
莫雷尔冲上来抢那封信,但基督山看出他会这么做,用他有力的手抓住他的手。鈥溎憧矗阆胱陨保澆羲担溎阋丫颜饽钔沸丛谥缴狭恕b
鈥満冒桑♀澞锥担谋砬橛执臃杩竦募ざ湮骄玻斺斺満冒桑词刮蚁胗谜庵智棺陨保茏柚刮遥克易柚刮遥康蔽宜担疑娜肯M严穑业男囊丫懒恕N业纳鹣鹆耍芪У囊磺卸既梦疑诵模厍蛞驯涑苫医恳桓鋈说纳舳忌撕ξ遥蔽宜担梦宜朗谴缺偃缥一钕氯ィ揖突嵋蛏ナЮ碇嵌⒎瑁笙拢嫠呶遥斺數碧苏庖环耙院螅够岫晕宜碘樐愦砹蒜櫋;褂兴崂闯⑹宰柚刮胰ニ滥兀「嫠呶遥笙拢训滥阌心侵钟缕穑库
鈥準堑模锥澔缴剿担奶确浅<岫ǎ肽悄昵崛思ざ斐#晌桓雒飨缘亩哉眨斺斺準堑模乙茄觥b
鈥溎悖♀ 莫雷尔愤怒地喊道,鈥斺斺溎悖蔽一箍梢跃人蛘呖梢钥醋潘涝谖一忱锏氖焙颍憷雌燮遥每斩吹呐笛岳垂睦桶参课摇D悖慵僮拔匏恢匏荒埽惆缪萆系郏床荒芫纫桓瞿昵岬墓媚铮“。∷道鲜祷埃笙拢绻悴皇侨梦铱戳司醯每膳碌幕埃壹蛑被峋醯媚愫芸闪♀
鈥溎锥♀
鈥溎憬形曳畔录倜婢撸也桓谋渲饕猓敕判陌桑〉蹦阍谒姆厍案宜祷暗氖焙颍一卮鹆四悖鞘且蛭业男娜砹耍愕秸舛吹氖焙颍胰媚憬础<热荒愕么缃撸热荒愕轿艺飧鲎魑啬褂玫姆考淅锢醇づ遥乙丫芫∪思渫纯嘁院螅阌治疑杓瞥鲆恢中碌目嘈蹋斺斈敲醇僮白鑫业亩魅说幕缴讲粞剑思涮焓沟幕缴讲粞剑憧梢月饬耍隳慷靡晃慌笥训乃腊伞b澦底牛锥裥ψ牌斯ツ媚侵智埂
基督山脸色惨白,但他的眼睛闪闪发光,他用手压住手枪,对狂疯的人说:鈥溛以俣阅闼狄槐椋悴荒茏陨薄b
鈥溎慊瓜胱柚刮遥澞锥卮穑踉乓谕巡舻氖郑蟮谝淮我谎恼踉嚼臀抻谩
鈥溎敲茨闳衔闶撬垢矣谜庵直┡暗奶榷源杂啥碇堑娜耍库
鈥溛沂撬库澔缴街馗吹溃溙牛谡飧鍪澜缟希挥形矣腥ɡ梢远阅闼担衡樐锥愀盖椎亩硬挥Ω盟涝诮裉臁b欌澔缴搅奖劢徊妫袂樽系叵蚰悄昵崛擞先ィ瓷先ナ悄敲闯绺吣敲瓷袷ィ昵崛瞬挥勺灾鞯卦谡庵纸跎袷サ耐厦媲扒耍笸肆艘徊健
鈥溎阄裁匆岬轿业母盖祝库澦峤岚桶偷匚剩溎阄裁匆阉徒裉斓氖虑榛煸谝黄穑♀
鈥溡蛭蹦愕母盖紫竽憬裉煺庋陨钡氖焙颍柚沽怂模褪俏摇K颓愕拿妹茫桶<巴鹾鸥夏锥壬模褪俏摇R蛭揖褪悄歉龅蹦慊故且桓鲂『⒆拥氖焙蚓桶涯惚г谙ネ飞贤娴陌旅路唐太斯。鈥
莫雷尔由于震惊几乎透不过气来,他踉踉跄跄地倒退了一步;他再也支持不住了,大叫一声俯伏到基督山脚下。然后,他又立刻爬起来,冲向房门,在楼梯顶上放开嗓子大喊:鈥溣壤颍壤颍“Γ“Γ♀
基督山想出来,但马西米兰住门不让伯爵出来,宁死也不肯放松门柄。尤莉、艾曼纽和那个仆人听到马西米兰的喊声,便惊怕失措地奔上来。莫雷尔拉着他们的手,把门推开,用一种呜咽声音喊道:鈥湽蛳拢蛳拢∷俏颐堑亩魅耍∈俏颐歉盖椎木让魅耍氢斺斺
他本来还想说出鈥湴旅路唐太斯鈥澱飧雒郑糇プ∷氖直郏柚沽怂S壤蚱说讲舻幕潮Ю铮话θ惹榈赜当荒锥止蛳吕矗盟亩钔放龅匕濉D鞘保歉鲆庵炯崆康娜司醯盟男呐蛘推鹄矗缓聿克坪跤幸坏阑鹧娉迳涎劬Γ凰拖峦房奁鹄础R皇奔洌考淅镏惶绦ㄆ壤蚣ざ斐#宄龇考洌嫉铰ハ拢芙吞铱д郑〕雒桌枷锼亩魅怂透哪侵磺
这时,艾曼纽用哽咽的声音对伯爵说:鈥溹蓿簦趺茨苷庋绦哪兀磕L颐翘钙鹞颐堑亩魅耍3?醇颐钦庋屑に绨菟趺慈绦亩晕颐且髡嫦嗄兀苦蓿舛晕颐鞘翘锌崃耍意斺斘腋艺庋德穑库斺敹阅约阂蔡锌崃耍♀
鈥溙牛业呐笥眩澆羲担溛铱梢哉庋坪裟悖蛭闼淙徊恢溃导噬先匆丫臀易隽耸荒甑呐笥眩斺斦飧雒孛艿男孤叮怯捎谝患悴恢赖拇笫乱隼吹摹I系圩髦ぃ冶纠聪M丈A粽飧雒孛埽愕哪谛致晡髅桌加霉鸬挠镅员莆医擦顺隼矗衷谝欢ê蠡诘笔钡木俣b澦啡タ醋拍锥锥怨蛟诘厣希寻淹贩谝徽湃σ卫铮愫猩钜獾匚找晃瞻Φ氖郑值蜕担溋粜乃b
鈥溛裁矗库澃娴匚省
鈥溛也荒苊魉担粜乃b
艾曼纽向房间里看了看,看见手枪放在桌子上;他的眼光停留在了它上面,他用手指了一指。基督山点了点头。艾曼纽走过去拿手枪。
鈥溗嫠旁谀嵌昧耍澔缴剿怠K蚰锥吖ィプ∷氖郑悄昵崛说男脑诩鹊募ざ院笙萑肓艘恢致槟咀刺S壤蚺芑乩戳耍峙踝拍侵凰看傻那断驳睦嶂橐淮毓鱿滤牧郊铡
鈥溦馐羌湍钇罚澦担溛也换嵋蛭鲜读宋颐堑亩魅司图跎俣运恼涫樱♀
鈥溛业暮⒆樱澔缴降牧澈炝耍溤市砦夷没啬侵磺伞D忝窍衷诩热灰丫鲜段遥抑幌M忝切睦锸笔蹦芟肫鹞揖托辛恕b
鈥溹蓿澯壤虬亚艚舻芈г诨忱锼担湶唬唬仪笄竽灰阉撸蛭谀骋蝗兆樱肟颐堑模锹穑库
鈥溎悴露粤耍蛉耍澔缴轿⑿ψ糯鸬溃溤谝恍瞧谥冢揖鸵肟飧龉伊耍蛭谡饫铮矶嘤Τ头5娜斯趴炖值纳睿业母盖兹丛诩⒊罱黄戎腥ナ馈b
当他说要离开的时候,伯爵看看莫雷尔,他发现鈥溛揖鸵肟飧龉意澱饧父鲎植⒉荒馨阉勇槟咀刺谢叫选K辣匦胗昧硪恢址椒ɡ窗锼呐笥岩种票В阄兆“陀壤虻氖郑靡桓鲋挥懈盖啄苡械奈潞投系目谖撬担衡溛业暮门笥眩梦业ザ篮吐砦髅桌即粢换帷b
尤莉看到基督山不留意那只钱袋,她可以带走她那宝贵的纪念物了,便拉她的丈夫到门口。鈥溛颐抢肟前伞b澦怠
房间里只剩下伯爵和莫雷尔了,莫雷尔仍象石像似的一动不动。
鈥溊矗澔缴接檬种概隽伺鏊募绨蛩担溎阕芩阌直涑赡凶雍毫耍砦髅桌迹库
鈥準堑模蛭矣挚纪纯嗔恕b
伯爵皱了皱眉头,犹豫说。鈥溌砦髅桌迹砦髅桌迹澦担溎阈睦锏哪钔凡皇且桓龌酵剿τ械摹b
鈥溹蓿槐嘏拢业呐笥眩澞锥担鹜防矗虿袈冻鲆桓錾诵牡奈⑿Γ溛也幌胱陨绷恕b
鈥溎敲茨阌貌蛔攀智梗灿貌蛔啪恕b
鈥溣貌蛔帕耍斡业谋В幸恢直茸拥蛐〉陡玫陌旆āb
鈥溈闪娜耍鞘鞘裁矗库
鈥溛业谋Щ崾刮宜廊ィ♀
鈥溛业呐笥眩澔缴酵怯舻乃担溙宜怠R郧坝幸惶欤腋阆衷谝谎蚁鹿竽阋谎木鲂模胱陨保郧坝幸惶欤愕母盖自谕氖焙颍蚕M陨薄<偃绲蹦愕母盖拙倨鹗智棺急缸陨钡氖焙颍蔽以诩嘤锶觳辉远鞯氖焙颍腥死炊运蚨晕宜担衡溁钕氯ィ从幸惶欤慊峥炖郑嵩廾郎畹模♀欌斺敳宦勰切┗笆撬档模颐翘俗芫醯貌豢伤家槎腋械侥岩韵嘈诺耐纯啵墒牵蹦愀盖自谟当愕氖焙颍嗌俅卧廾郎钛剑∥易约阂苍嗌俅 鈥斺斺
鈥湴。♀澞锥蚨喜舻幕疤镜溃溎阒簧ナЯ四愕淖杂桑腋钢簧ナЯ怂牟撇俏意斺斘沂チ送呃实倌取b
鈥溈纯次遥锥澔缴阶系厮担庵肿系奶仁顾蠢词钦庋奈按螅と嗣环ú恍欧斺斺溈纯次遥业难劬锩挥醒劾幔业那樾鞑⒉豢袢龋墒俏胰囱劭醋拍阍谕纯噔斺斈悖砦髅桌迹沂前涯愕弊魑易约旱亩右谎创摹`牛獠皇窃诟嫠吣悖罕б蚕笊钜谎苁前樗孀乓恍┠阋庀氩坏降氖虑槁穑肯衷冢偃缥仪竽慊钕氯サ幕埃锥鞘且蛭蚁嘈牛从幸惶欤慊岣行晃冶H愕纳摹b
鈥溎乔嗄晁担溹蓿炷模∧阍谒凳裁囱剑簦苛舻闵瘢蛐砟愦永疵挥辛蛋♀
鈥満⒆樱♀澆艋卮稹
鈥溛沂侵赶笪艺庋牧蛋D憧矗页赡暌院螅褪且桓鼍恕N业蕉潘昝挥辛蛋谀且郧埃宜逖榈那楦忻挥幸恢殖莆椤`牛诙潘甑氖焙颍矣黾送呃实倌龋野狭怂诹侥甑钠诩淠冢掖铀纳砩峡醇宋尬囊磺忻赖拢拖笮丛谥缴弦谎簦涤辛送呃拾髂冉且恢治尴薜摹⒖涨暗男腋#斺斠恢衷谑澜缟咸蟆⑻暾⑻驳男腋!<热徽飧鍪澜绮辉市砦业玫秸飧鲂腋#簦У袅送呃实倌龋澜缢舾业木椭挥芯推嗔沽恕b
鈥溛腋嫠吣悖в邢Mb澆羲怠
鈥溎敲矗以偎狄槐椋毫舻闵瘢蛭阆氲盟捣遥偃缒愠晒α耍冶慊崾ダ碇牵蛭胺遥鞘刮蚁胄盼一鼓茉俚玫酵呃实倌取b
伯爵微笑了一下。
鈥溛业呐笥眩业母盖祝澞锥朔艿睾暗溃衡溛业谌卧偕鳎毫舻闵瘢蛭愣晕业挠跋焯罅恕D阍谒祷耙郧跋认牒茫蛭业难劬τ钟猩窳耍业男挠指椿盍恕A舻闵瘢蛭闶窃谌梦蚁嘈拍切┥窈跗渖竦氖隆H绻惴愿牢揖蚱鹉锹裨犴常鄞狄帐顾呐椿睢b斺斠胱ⅲ葜哪故揖突崛プ觥<偃缒阒甘疚曳较颍愿牢蚁笫ネ侥茄诖蠛5牟ɡ松闲凶撸乙不岱幽悖羯衲模裁炊蓟岱幽愕摹b
鈥溡в邢M桑业呐笥选b澆羧跃伤怠
鈥湴。 莫雷尔说,情绪顿时兴奋的高峰跌回到绝望的深谷鈥斺斺湴。阍诙何遥竽切┥屏级运降哪盖子锰鹧悦塾锖逅堑暮⒆右谎蛭⒆拥目藓笆顾歉械椒衬铡2唬业呐笥眩乙懔羯袷遣欢缘摹2挥门拢医盐业耐纯嗦裨谖倚牧榈纳畲Γ一崛盟晌孛埽踔亮悴槐亓跷摇1鹆耍业呐笥眩鹆耍♀
鈥溦喾矗澆羲担湸哟丝唐穑惚匦氲煤臀易≡谝黄穑斺斈阋欢ú荒芾肟遥谝恍瞧谥冢颐蔷鸵肟ü恕b
鈥溔匀灰冶в邢M穑库
鈥溛腋嫠吣阌Ω帽в邢M蛭抑酪恢址椒ǹ梢砸街文恪b
鈥湶簦绻赡艿幕埃阏庋荒苁刮冶纫郧案诵牧恕D阋晕庵皇且恢制胀ǖ拇蚧鳎憧梢杂靡恢制胀ǖ姆椒ㄢ斺敻幕换肪斥斺斃匆胶盟b澯谑悄锥员梢牟恍嫉幕骋梢∫⊥贰
鈥溛一鼓芩凳裁茨兀库澔缴轿实馈b溛叶杂谖业姆椒ê苡行判模竽阍市砦依词砸皇浴b
鈥湶簦阒换崾刮彝纯嗤系酶ぁb
鈥溎敲粹澆羲担溎愕男木湍敲创嗳酰踔亮乙桓龀⑹缘挠缕济挥新穑坷矗∧憧芍阑缴讲裟芰τ卸啻螅磕憧芍浪莆兆哦嗌偃Γ磕憧芍浪嗌傩判目梢源由系勰嵌竦闷婕#可系鬯担擞行叛觯梢砸粕健`牛纫坏劝桑歉銎婕1в邢M蝗烩斺敳蝗唬⌒哪模锥裨蛞的阃鞲阂辶恕b
鈥溈闪闪野桑簦♀
鈥溛叶阅闶钦庋耐椋砦髅桌迹胩宜担绻也荒茉谝桓鲈乱阅谝胶媚悖虻侥且惶欤侥歉鍪焙颍⒁馕业幕埃锥揖桶咽智狗旁谀愕拿媲埃硗庠俑阋槐罾骱Φ囊獯罄疽┾斺斠恢直壬彼劳呃实倌鹊亩疽└行Ц杆俚亩疽b
鈥溎愦鹩ξ伊耍库
鈥準堑模蛭沂且桓瞿凶雍海蛭缥宜嫠吣愕模苍牍馈U娴模源硬恍依肟乙院螅沂背O氲匠っ叩目炖帧b
鈥湹阋欢艽鹩ξ艺庖坏懵穑库澞锥兆淼厮怠
鈥溛也坏鹩Γ铱梢苑⑹模♀澔缴缴斐鲆恢皇炙怠
鈥溎敲矗灸愕娜烁竦1#谝桓鲈轮冢偃缥一共荒艿玫桨参浚易杂纱砦业纳宦畚以跹觯愣疾换崴滴彝鞲阂辶耍库
鈥溡桓鲈拢昵暗恼飧鍪奔浜腿掌谑巧袷サ模砦髅桌肌N也恢滥闶欠窕辜堑茫航裉焓蔷旁挛迦眨昵暗慕裉欤愕母盖紫胨溃俏揖人拿b
莫雷尔抓住伯爵的手吻了一下,伯爵任他这样做,他觉得这是他应该得到的。鈥溡桓鲈缕诼氖焙颍澔缴郊绦担溎憬谖颐悄鞘彼淖雷忧懊婵吹揭恢智梗憧梢杂淇斓娜ニ溃牵惚匦氪鹩ξ艺庖桓鲈履诰霾蛔陨薄b
鈥溹蓿∥乙卜⑹摹b
基督山把那年轻人紧紧地搂在怀里。鈥溝衷冢澦担湽私裉欤憔屠春臀易≡谝黄稹D憧梢宰『w斓姆考洌辽倏梢杂筛龆永创嫖业呐恕
鈥満w欤库澞锥担溗趺戳耍库
鈥溗蛱焱砩献吡恕b
鈥溊肟懵穑库
鈥溡蛭サ茸盼摇K裕阕急敢幌拢较汩坷錾岽蠼秩フ椅摇O衷谂阄易叱鋈ゲ灰萌魏稳丝醇摇b
马西米兰低下头,象一个孩子或圣徒似的照他的吩咐做了。
相关文章: | ◇ 读《基督山恩仇记》有感 | ◇ 骑士与女奴 |
◇ 坚持“原则”的运尸蚁 | ◇ 公理的地位 |
|
|