《基督山伯爵》第105章 公墓

2016-09-07  | 基督 基督山 M. 

  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Mb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。

 
热点推荐
在线背单词
小学数学
电子课本
在线识字
关于我们 |  我的账户 |  隐私政策 |  在线投稿 |  相关服务 |  网站地图
Copyright © 2002-2019 All Rights Reserved 版权所有 小精灵儿童网站
联系我们(9:00-17:00)
广告和商务合作qq:2925720737
友情链接qq:570188905
邮件:570188905@qq.com