《基督山伯爵》第111章 抵罪
NOTWITHSTANDING the density of the crowd, M. de Villefort saw it open before him. There is something so awe-inspiring in great afflictions that even in the worst times the first emotion of a crowd has generally been to sympathize with the sufferer in a great catastrophe. Many people have been assassinated in a tumult, but even criminals have rarely been insulted during trial. Thus Villefort passed through the mass of spectators and officers of the Palais, and withdrew. Though he had acknowledged his guilt, he was protected by his grief. There are some situations which men understand by instinct, but which reason is powerless to explain; in such cases the greatest poet is he who gives utterance to the most natural and vehement outburst of sorrow. Those who hear the bitter cry are as much impressed as if they listened to an entire poem, and when the sufferer is sincere they are right in regarding his outburst as sublime.
It would be difficult to describe the state of stupor in which Villefort left the Palais. Every pulse beat with feverish excitement, every nerve was strained, every vein swollen, and every part of his body seemed to suffer distinctly from the rest, thus multiplying his agony a thousand-fold. He made his way along the corridors through force of habit; he threw aside his magisterial robe, not out of deference to etiquette, but because it was an unbearable burden, a veritable garb of Nessus, insatiate in torture. Having staggered as far as the Rue Dauphin茅, he perceived his carriage, awoke his sleeping coachman by opening the door himself, threw himself on the cushions, and pointed towards the Faubourg Saint-Honor茅; the carriage drove on. The weight of his fallen fortunes seemed suddenly to crush him; he could not foresee the consequences; he could not contemplate the future with the indifference of the hardened criminal who merely faces a contingency already familiar. God was still in his heart. "God," he murmured, not knowing what he said,--"God--God!" Behind the event that had overwhelmed him he saw the hand of God. The carriage rolled rapidly onward. Villefort, while turning restlessly on the cushions, felt something press against him. He put out his hand to remove the object; it was a fan which Madame de Villefort had left in the carriage; this fan awakened a recollection which darted through his mind like lightning. He thought of his wife.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, as though a redhot iron were piercing his heart. During the last hour his own crime had alone been presented to his mind; now another object, not less terrible, suddenly presented itself. His wife! He had just acted the inexorable judge with her, he had condemned her to death, and she, crushed by remorse, struck with terror, covered with the shame inspired by the eloquence of his irreproachable virtue,--she, a poor, weak woman, without help or the power of defending herself against his absolute and supreme will,--she might at that very moment, perhaps, be preparing to die! An hour had elapsed since her condemnation; at that moment, doubtless, she was recalling all her crimes to her memory; she was asking pardon for her sins; perhaps she was even writing a letter imploring forgiveness from her virtuous husband--a forgiveness she was purchasing with her death! Villefort again groaned with anguish and despair. "Ah," he exclaimed, "that woman became criminal only from associating with me! I carried the infection of crime with me, and she has caught it as she would the typhus fever, the cholera, the plague! And yet I have punished her--I have dared to tell her--I have--'Repent and die!' But no, she must not die; she shall live, and with me. We will flee from Paris and go as far as the earth reaches. I told her of the scaffold; oh, heavens, I forgot that it awaits me also! How could I pronounce that word? Yes, we will fly; I will confess all to her,--I will tell her daily that I also have committed a crime!--Oh, what an alliance--the tiger and the serpent; worthy wife of such as I am! She must live that my infamy may diminish hers." And Villefort dashed open the window in front of the carriage.
"Faster, faster!" he cried, in a tone which electrified the coachman. The horses, impelled by fear, flew towards the house.
"Yes, yes," repeated Villefort, as he approached his home--"yes, that woman must live; she must repent, and educate my son, the sole survivor, with the exception of the indestructible old man, of the wreck of my house. She loves him; it was for his sake she has committed these crimes. We ought never to despair of softening the heart of a mother who loves her child. She will repent, and no one will know that she has been guilty. The events which have taken place in my house, though they now occupy the public mind, will be forgotten in time, or if, indeed, a few enemies should persist in remembering them, why then I will add them to my list of crimes. What will it signify if one, two, or three more are added? My wife and child shall escape from this gulf, carrying treasures with them; she will live and may yet be happy, since her child, in whom all her love is centred, will be with her. I shall have performed a good action, and my heart will be lighter." And the procureur breathed more freely than he had done for some time.
The carriage stopped at the door of the house. Villefort leaped out of the carriage, and saw that his servants were surprised at his early return; he could read no other expression on their features. Neither of them spoke to him; they merely stood aside to let him pass by, as usual, nothing more. As he passed by M. Noirtier's room, he perceived two figures through the half-open door; but he experienced no curiosity to know who was visiting his father: anxiety carried him on further.
"Come," he said, as he ascended the stairs leading to his wife's room, "nothing is changed here." He then closed the door of the landing. "No one must disturb us," he said; "I must speak freely to her, accuse myself, and say"--he approached the door, touched the crystal handle, which yielded to his hand. "Not locked," he cried; "that is well." And he entered the little room in which Edward slept; for though the child went to school during the day, his mother could not allow him to be separated from her at night. With a single glance Villefort's eye ran through the room. "Not here," he said; "doubtless she is in her bedroom." He rushed towards the door, found it bolted, and stopped, shuddering. "H茅lo?se!" he cried. He fancied he heard the sound of a piece of furniture being removed. "H茅lo?se!" he repeated.
"Who is there?" answered the voice of her he sought. He thought that voice more feeble than usual.
"Open the door!" cried Villefort. "Open; it is I." But notwithstanding this request, notwithstanding the tone of anguish in which it was uttered, the door remained closed. Villefort burst it open with a violent blow. At the entrance of the room which led to her boudoir, Madame de Villefort was standing erect, pale, her features contracted, and her eyes glaring horribly. "H茅lo?se, H茅lo?se!" he said, "what is the matter? Speak!" The young woman extended her stiff white hands towards him. "It is done, monsieur," she said with a rattling noise which seemed to tear her throat. "What more do you want?" and she fell full length on the floor. Villefort ran to her and seized her hand, which convulsively clasped a crystal bottle with a golden stopper. Madame de Villefort was dead. Villefort, maddened with horror, stepped back to the threshhold of the door, fixing his eyes on the corpse: "My son!" he exclaimed suddenly, "where is my son?--Edward, Edward!" and he rushed out of the room, still crying, "Edward, Edward!" The name was pronounced in such a tone of anguish that the servants ran up.
"Where is my son?" asked Villefort; "let him be removed from the house, that he may not see"--
"Master Edward is not down-stairs, sir," replied the valet.
"Then he must be playing in the garden; go and see."
"No, sir; Madame de Villefort sent for him half an hour ago; he went into her room, and has not been down-stairs since." A cold perspiration burst out on Villefort's brow; his legs trembled, and his thoughts flew about madly in his brain like the wheels of a disordered watch. "In Madame de Villefort's room?" he murmured and slowly returned, with one hand wiping his forehead, and with the other supporting himself against the wall. To enter the room he must again see the body of his unfortunate wife. To call Edward he must reawaken the echo of that room which now appeared like a sepulchre; to speak seemed like violating the silence of the tomb. His tongue was paralyzed in his mouth.
"Edward!" he stammered--"Edward!" The child did not answer. Where, then, could he be, if he had entered his mother's room and not since returned? He stepped forward. The corpse of Madame de Villefort was stretched across the doorway leading to the room in which Edward must be; those glaring eyes seemed to watch over the threshold, and the lips bore the stamp of a terrible and mysterious irony. Through the open door was visible a portion of the boudoir, containing an upright piano and a blue satin couch. Villefort stepped forward two or three paces, and beheld his child lying--no doubt asleep--on the sofa. The unhappy man uttered an exclamation of joy; a ray of light seemed to penetrate the abyss of despair and darkness. He had only to step over the corpse, enter the boudoir, take the child in his arms, and flee far, far away.
Villefort was no longer the civilized man; he was a tiger hurt unto death, gnashing his teeth in his wound. He no longer feared realities, but phantoms. He leaped over the corpse as if it had been a burning brazier. He took the child in his arms, embraced him, shook him, called him, but the child made no response. He pressed his burning lips to the cheeks, but they were icy cold and pale; he felt the stiffened limbs; he pressed his hand upon the heart, but it no longer beat,--the child was dead. A folded paper fell from Edward's breast. Villefort, thunderstruck, fell upon his knees; the child dropped from his arms, and rolled on the floor by the side of its mother. He picked up the paper, and, recognizing his wife's writing, ran his eyes rapidly over its contents; it ran as follows:--
"You know that I was a good mother, since it was for my son's sake I became criminal. A good mother cannot depart without her son."
Villefort could not believe his eyes,--he could not believe his reason; he dragged himself towards the child's body, and examined it as a lioness contemplates its dead cub. Then a piercing cry escaped from his breast, and he cried, "Still the hand of God." The presence of the two victims alarmed him; he could not bear solitude shared only by two corpses. Until then he had been sustained by rage, by his strength of mind, by despair, by the supreme agony which led the Titans to scale the heavens, and Ajax to defy the gods. He now arose, his head bowed beneath the weight of grief, and, shaking his damp, dishevelled hair, he who had never felt compassion for any one determined to seek his father, that he might have some one to whom he could relate his misfortunes,--some one by whose side he might weep. He descended the little staircase with which we are acquainted, and entered Noirtier's room. The old man appeared to be listening attentively and as affectionately as his infirmities would allow to the Abb茅 Busoni, who looked cold and calm, as usual. Villefort, perceiving the abb茅, passed his hand across his brow. He recollected the call he had made upon him after the dinner at Auteuil, and then the visit the abb茅 had himself paid to his house on the day of Valentine's death. "You here, sir!" he exclaimed; "do you, then, never appear but to act as an escort to death?"
Busoni turned around, and, perceiving the excitement depicted on the magistrate's face, the savage lustre of his eyes, he understood that the revelation had been made at the assizes; but beyond this he was ignorant. "I came to pray over the body of your daughter."
"And now why are you here?"
"I come to tell you that you have sufficiently repaid your debt, and that from this moment I will pray to God to forgive you, as I do."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Villefort, stepping back fearfully, "surely that is not the voice of the Abb茅 Busoni!"
"No!" The abb茅 threw off his wig, shook his head, and his hair, no longer confined, fell in black masses around his manly face.
"It is the face of the Count of Monte Cristo!" exclaimed the procureur, with a haggard expression.
"You are not exactly right, M. Procureur; you must go farther back."
"That voice, that voice!--where did I first hear it?"
"You heard it for the first time at Marseilles, twenty-three years ago, the day of your marriage with Mademoiselle de Saint-M茅ran. Refer to your papers."
"You are not Busoni?--you are not Monte Cristo? Oh, heavens--you are, then, some secret, implacable, and mortal enemy! I must have wronged you in some way at Marseilles. Oh, woe to me!"
"Yes; you are now on the right path," said the count, crossing his arms over his broad chest; "search--search!"
"But what have I done to you?" exclaimed Villefort, whose mind was balancing between reason and insanity, in that cloud which is neither a dream nor reality; "what have I done to you? Tell me, then! Speak!"
"You condemned me to a horrible, tedious death; you killed my father; you deprived me of liberty, of love, and happiness."
"Who are you, then? Who are you?"
"I am the spectre of a wretch you buried in the dungeons of the Chateau d'If. God gave that spectre the form of the Count of Monte Cristo when he at length issued from his tomb, enriched him with gold and diamonds, and led him to you!"
"Ah, I recognize you--I recognize you!" exclaimed the king's attorney; "you are"--
"I am Edmond Dant猫s!"
"You are Edmond Dant猫s," cried Villefort, seizing the count by the wrist; "then come here!" And up the stairs he dragged Monte Cristo; who, ignorant of what had happened, followed him in astonishment, foreseeing some new catastrophe. "There, Edmond Dant猫s!" he said, pointing to the bodies of his wife and child, "see, are you well avenged?" Monte Cristo became pale at this horrible sight; he felt that he had passed beyond the bounds of vengeance, and that he could no longer say, "God is for and with me." With an expression of indescribable anguish he threw himself upon the body of the child, reopened its eyes, felt its pulse, and then rushed with him into Valentine's room, of which he double-locked the door. "My child," cried Villefort, "he carries away the body of my child! Oh, curses, woe, death to you!" and he tried to follow Monte Cristo; but as though in a dream he was transfixed to the spot,--his eyes glared as though they were starting through the sockets; he griped the flesh on his chest until his nails were stained with blood; the veins of his temples swelled and boiled as though they would burst their narrow boundary, and deluge his brain with living fire. This lasted several minutes, until the frightful overturn of reason was accomplished; then uttering a loud cry followed by a burst of laughter, he rushed down the stairs.
A quarter of an hour afterwards the door of Valentine's room opened, and Monte Cristo reappeared. Pale, with a dull eye and heavy heart, all the noble features of that face, usually so calm and serene, were overcast by grief. In his arms he held the child, whom no skill had been able to recall to life. Bending on one knee, he placed it reverently by the side of its mother, with its head upon her breast. Then, rising, he went out, and meeting a servant on the stairs, he asked, "Where is M. de Villefort?"
The servant, instead of answering, pointed to the garden. Monte Cristo ran down the steps, and advancing towards the spot designated beheld Villefort, encircled by his servants, with a spade in his hand, and digging the earth with fury. "It is not here!" he cried. "It is not here!" And then he moved farther on, and began again to dig.
Monte Cristo approached him, and said in a low voice, with an expression almost humble, "Sir, you have indeed lost a son; but"--
Villefort interrupted him; he had neither listened nor heard. "Oh, I will find it," he cried; "you may pretend he is not here, but I will find him, though I dig forever!" Monte Cristo drew back in horror. "Oh," he said, "he is mad!" And as though he feared that the walls of the accursed house would crumble around him, he rushed into the street, for the first time doubting whether he had the right to do as he had done. "Oh, enough of this,--enough of this," he cried; "let me save the last." On entering his house, he met Morrel, who wandered about like a ghost awaiting the heavenly mandate for return to the tomb. "Prepare yourself, Maximilian," he said with a smile; "we leave Paris to-morrow."
"Have you nothing more to do there?" asked Morrel.
"No," replied Monte Cristo; "God grant I may not have done too much already."
The next day they indeed left, accompanied only by Baptistin. Haid茅e had taken away Ali, and Bertuccio remained with Noirtier.
维尔福先生看见稠密的人群在他的前面闪开着一条路。
极度的惨痛会使别人产生一种敬畏,即使在历史中最不幸的时期,群众第一个反应总是对一场大难中的受苦者表示同情。
有许多人会在一场动乱中被杀死,但罪犯在接受审判时,却极少受到侮辱。所以维尔福安全地从法院里的旁听者和军警面前走过。他虽然已认罪,有他的悲哀作保护。在这种情况下,人们不是用理智来判断,而是凭本能行事;在这样的情况下,最伟大的人就是那种最富有感情和最自然的人。大家把他们的表情当作一种完美的语言,而且有理由以此为满足,尤其是当那种语言符合实际情况的时候。维尔福离开法院时的那种恍惚迷离的状态是难于形容的。一种极度的亢奋,每一条神经都紧张,每一条血管都鼓起来,他身体的每一部分似乎都受着痛苦的宰割,这使他的痛苦增加了一千倍。他凭着习惯走出法庭,他抛开他法官的长袍,鈥斺敳⒉皇且蛭碛θ绱耍且蛭募绨虿皇ぶ匮梗笫桥乓患ズ纯嗟哪崴账沟某纳酪谎勰崴账故窍@吧窕爸邪肴税肼淼墓治铮蛴展沾罅κ亢湛死锼怪薇缓湛死锼挂远炯渌馈:罩拮衲崴账沟囊叛裕颜煞虻某囊掠谜夤治锏难湛死锼勾┥虾笠虼酥卸荆嗄詹豢埃渲伦陨薄b斺斠胱ⅲ荨K怎怎孽牡刈叩降辣雎罚醇穆沓担T谀抢铮鬃源蚩得牛⌒涯穷某捣颍缓笏さ乖诔底希T谀抢铮蚴路奥诺路指了一指,马车便开始行驶了。他这场灾祸好象全部重量似乎都压在他的头上。那种重量把他压垮了。他并没有看到后果,也没有考虑,他只能直觉地感到它们的重压。他不能象一个惯于杀人的冷酷的凶手那样理智地分析他的处境。他灵魂的深处想到了上帝,鈥斺斺溕系垩剑♀澦舸舻厮担涫邓⒉磺宄约涸谒敌┦裁矗溕系垩剑∩系垩剑♀澰谡饨俚脑只龊竺妫醇系邸B沓导彼俚匦惺蛔拧T诔档嫔喜煌5鼗味诺奈>醪毂澈笥幸谎鞫プ∷K焓秩ツ每茄鳎窃词俏7蛉嗽诔底永锏囊话焉茸印U獍焉茸酉蠛诎抵械纳恋缒茄狡鹚幕匾洌斺斔肫鹆怂钠拮印
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她,一个无力抵抗法律的可怜的弱女子,鈥斺斔馐币残碚谀嵌急杆溃∽源铀恍杏凶镆岳矗压ヒ桓鲋油妨恕
在这个时候,她无疑地正在回忆她所犯的种种罪行,她也许正在要求饶恕她的罪行,或许她在写信给他丈夫,求她那道德高尚的丈夫饶恕她,维尔福又惨痛和绝望地呻吟了一声。
鈥湴。♀ 他叹道,鈥溎歉雠酥皇且蛭医岷喜呕岜涑勺锓福∥疑砩洗欧缸锏南妇皇鞘芰舜荆蟠镜缴撕⒒袈液臀烈咭谎】墒牵胰闯头K∥揖垢叶运担衡樷慊诎桑腊桑♀權蓿唬〔唬∷梢曰钕氯ァK梢愿摇N颐强梢蕴幼撸肟ü拥绞澜绲木⊥贰N叶运岬蕉贤诽ǎ⊥蚰艿纳系郏∥以趺淳垢叶运的蔷浠埃∴蓿贤诽ㄒ苍诘茸盼夷兀∈堑模颐墙蹲吒叻桑医蛩腥弦磺校医焯旄嫠咚乙卜缸铮∴蓿媸抢匣⒑统嗔飞叩慕岷希∴蓿媾渥鑫业钠拮樱∷欢ú荒芩溃业某苋枰残砘峒跚崴哪诰巍b澯谑俏C土Υ蚩迪崆懊娴拇翱凇b溈斓悖】斓悖♀
他喊道,他喊叫时的口吻使那车夫感到象触了电一样。马被赶得惊恐万分,飞一般地跑回家去。
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马车在宅邸院子里停住。维尔福从车子里出来,他看出仆人们都很惊奇他回来得这样早。除此之外他在他们的脸上再看不出别的表情。没有人跟他说话,象往常一样他们站在一边让他过去。当他经过诺瓦蒂埃先生房间时,他从那半开着的门里看见了两个人影,但他不想知道是谁在拜访他的父亲,他匆匆地继续向前走。
鈥湴。皇骡潱彼呱贤ㄏ蚱拮臃考淙サ穆ヌ菔保担溍皇乱磺卸际抢涎印b澦媸止芈Bヌ菘诘拿拧b湶荒苋萌死创蛉盼颐牵澦耄溛冶匦牒敛还思傻馗嫠咚谒媲叭献铮岩磺卸几嫠咚潯K叩矫趴冢兆∧撬疟湃醋孕写蚩恕b溍琶还兀♀澦匝宰杂锏厮担満芎谩b澦呓禄醯哪歉鲂》考洌⒆影滋斓窖Hド涎В砩虾湍盖鬃≡谝黄稹Kο蚍考淅锟戳丝础b湶辉谡舛澦担 鈥溗谧约旱姆考淅铩b澦宓矫趴冢殴刈拧K驹谀嵌肷泶蚨哙隆b湴茜菜浚♀澦暗馈K孟筇郊揖咭贫纳簟b湴茜菜浚♀澦俸啊
鈥準撬库澦业呐宋实馈K醯媚歉錾舯韧N⑷醯枚唷
鈥溈牛♀澪:暗溃溈牛俏摇b
不管他的怎样请求,不管他的口气让人听上去多么痛苦,门却依旧关着。维尔福一脚把门踹开。在门口里面,维尔福夫人直挺挺地站着,她的脸色苍白,五官收缩。恐怖地望着他。鈥湴茜菜浚“茜菜浚♀澦担溎阍趺蠢玻克笛剑♀
那年轻女子向他伸出一只僵硬而苍白的手。我按你的要求做了,阁下!鈥澦羲谎疲砹孟笏媸倍伎赡鼙凰毫选
鈥溎慊挂跹兀库澦底潘さ乖诘匕迳稀
维尔福奔过去抓住她的手,痉挛的那只手里握着一只金盖子的水晶瓶。维尔福夫人自杀了。维尔福吓疯了,他退回到门口,两眼盯住那尸体。鈥溛业亩幽兀♀澦蝗缓暗溃溛业亩釉谀亩堪禄“禄♀澦宄龇考洌杩竦睾白牛湴禄“禄♀澦纳舨皇け腿嗣翘胶吧寂芰松侠础
鈥溛业亩釉谀亩库澪N实溃湸肟庾孔樱灰盟醇斺斺
鈥湴禄僖辉诼ハ拢壬b澠腿舜鸬馈
鈥溎敲此赡茉诨ㄔ袄锿妫タ纯础b
鈥湶唬壬蛉嗽诎胄∈鼻芭扇死凑宜椒蛉说姆考淅锶チ耍院缶兔挥邢侣ダ垂b
维尔福的额头上直冒冷汗,他的双腿发抖,各种不祥的念头在他的脑子里乱转。鈥溤谖7蛉说姆考淅铮库澦厮担拮拥姆考洌诶锩嫠荒芾纯床恍业钠拮拥氖濉R鞍禄欢ɑ嵩谀潜涑煞啬沟姆考淅镌斐苫匾簟K坪醪挥Ω盟祷按蚱品啬沟哪病N>醯米约旱纳嗤芬丫槟玖恕b湴禄♀澦诔缘厮担 鈥湴禄♀澝挥谢匾簟H绻侥盖椎姆考淅锩挥性俪隼矗只峥赡茉谀亩兀克谧沤抛吖ァN7蛉说氖搴崽稍诿趴冢禄欢ㄔ诜考淅锩妗D歉鍪逅坪踉诳词胤棵牛劬Φ勺牛成戏置鞔乓恢挚膳碌摹⑸衩氐摹⒓シ淼奈⑿Α4幽谴蚩诺拿畔蚶锕ィ梢钥醇患苤绷⒏智俸鸵徽爬抖械乃健NO蚯白吡肆饺剑醇暮⒆犹稍谏撤⑸希帕恕K⒊鲆簧断驳暮敖校孟笸溉肽蔷诎档纳钤āK灰绻鞘澹呓考洌鹚暮⒆樱蹲吒叻删托辛恕
维尔福已不再是那个精明近于深谋远虑的上层人物了,现在他是一只受伤将死的老虎,他的牙齿已被最后的痛苦磨碎了。他不怕现实,他只怕鬼。他跨过尸体,好象那是能把他吞噬的一只火炉。他把那孩子抱在自己的怀里,搂着他,摇他,喊他,但那孩子并不回答。他嘴唇去亲那孩子的脸颊,孩子是冰冷惨白的。他感到他的四肢僵硬,他把手放在他的胸膛上,心脏已不再跳动了,孩子死了。一张叠着的纸从爱德华的胸口上落下来。维尔福如同五雷轰顶,双腿一软跪下来,孩子从他麻木的手上滑下来,滚到他母亲的身边。维尔福拾起那张纸,那是妻子的笔迹,他迫不急待地看了起来。
鈥溎阒牢沂且桓龊媚盖祝宋叶硬幌米约罕涑梢桓鲎锶恕R桓龊媚盖资遣荒芎退亩臃掷氲摹b
维尔福无法相信他的眼睛,无法相信他的理智。他向孩子的尸体爬过去,象一只母狮看着它死掉的小狮子一样。悲痛欲绝地喊道,鈥溕系郯。♀澦担溕系塾涝诎。♀澞橇骄咚朗呕盗怂荒苋淌芰骄呤謇刺畛浼啪病V钡侥鞘保灰恢芯捅粗С肿拧1戳Υ笪薇龋顾艘恢忠旌跹俺5挠缕O衷冢酒鹄矗耐返妥牛а沟盟Р黄鹜防础Kα怂δ潜焕浜谷笫耐贩ⅲ龆ㄈフ宜母盖祝用欢匀魏稳吮硎竟酰衷谒乙桓鋈死刺呖啵乙桓隼刺奁K呦侣ヌ荩呓低叩侔5姆考洹D抢先苏盟芄槐硐殖龅淖钋兹鹊谋砬樵谇闾忌衬嵘窀λ祷埃忌衬嵘窀θ韵笸R谎涞骄病NR豢醇浅だ希惆咽职丛谇岸钌稀K堑盟诎⒍级谴瓮硌绾笕グ莘霉布堑贸だ显谕呃实倌热ナ赖哪翘斓秸庾孔永锢垂b溎阍谡舛笙拢♀澦镜溃溎阍趺醋苁前樗嫠郎褚黄鹄茨兀库
布沙尼转过身来,看着检察官变了形的脸和他眼睛里那种野蛮的凶光,他知道开庭的那出戏已经收场了,但他当然不知道发生了别的事情。鈥溛乙郧霸次愕呐淼还b澦鸬馈
鈥湹憬裉炖醋鍪裁矗库
鈥溛依锤嫠吣悖耗愕恼丫セ沟霉涣耍哟丝唐穑医淼簧系巯笪乙谎目硭∧恪b
鈥溕系垩剑♀澪I袂榛耪诺暮暗溃溎悴皇遣忌衬嵘窀Γ♀
鈥準堑模也皇牵澇だ侠羲耐贩ⅲ∫灰M罚暮诜⑴⒌剿怯⒖〉拿婵琢脚浴
鈥溎闶腔缴讲簦♀澕觳旃俅啪舻纳袂楹暗馈
鈥溎闼档貌⒉蝗裕觳旃俑笙拢僮邢赶胍幌搿b
鈥溎闶窃诼砣谝淮翁轿业纳舻模诙暌郧埃阌胧路梅朗小姐举行婚礼的那一天。好好想一想吧。鈥
鈥溎悴皇遣忌衬幔磕悴皇腔缴剑磕憔褪悄歉龆阍谀缓笥胛也还泊魈斓乃蓝酝罚∥以诼砣氖焙蛞欢ǖ米锕恪E叮梦业姑梗♀
鈥準堑模闼档枚裕澆舭阉纸徊嬖诳砝男厍埃担溝胂氚桑邢赶胂氚桑♀
鈥湹以跹米锪四悖库澪:暗溃哪宰诱谀羌确腔妹我卜窍质档木车嘏腔苍诶碇呛头杩裰洌斺斺溛以跹米锪四悖扛嫠呶野桑∷笛剑♀
鈥溎闶撬敲茨闶撬库
鈥溛沂潜荒懵裨谝练虮ず诶卫锏囊桓隹闪娜说囊趸辍D歉鲆趸曛沼谝汛铀姆啬估锱懒顺隼矗系鄞退桓龌缴降拿婢撸矶嘟鹬楸Ρ矗鼓阒钡浇裉觳拍苋铣鏊b
鈥湴。∥胰铣瞿懔耍∥胰铣瞿懔耍♀澕觳旃俸暗溃溎闶氢斺斺
鈥溛沂前旅路唐太斯!鈥
鈥溎闶前旅路唐太斯!鈥澪Wプ〔舻氖滞蠛暗溃溎敲吹秸舛础b澯谑撬呕缴酵ド献摺2舨恢婪⑸耸裁词虑椋皇撬男睦镆擦系椒⑸四持中碌脑帜选
鈥溈窗桑旅路唐太斯!鈥澦缸潘拮雍秃⒆拥氖逅担溈矗∧愕某鸨寺穑库
基督山看到这令人毛骨悚然的情景,他的脸色变得苍白;他把报复的权利用得过了头,他已没有权利说鈥溕系壑遥系塾胛彝凇D蔷浠傲恕K乓恢治薹ㄐ稳莸谋У谋砬槠说侥呛⒆拥氖迳希难劬Γ幻穆霾缓蟊ё潘褰呃实倌鹊姆考洌衙殴厣狭恕
鈥溛业暮⒆樱♀澪:暗溃溗雷吡宋业暮⒆樱∴蓿阏饣档埃悴坏煤盟溃♀澦肴プ坊缴剑笫窃谧雒我谎慕乓徊揭捕坏谩K彰龃笱劬Γ壑橄笫且友劭衾锿怀隼此频摹V讣自诵靥派希谎竞炝耍凰粞ㄉ系难苷偷孟笠芽此频模纺苑⑷取<阜种樱丫挥辛死碇牵幼牛蠼幸簧⒊鲆徽蟠笮Γ逑侣ヌ萑チ恕
一刻钟以后,瓦朗蒂娜的房间门开了,基督山走出来。他的眼光迟钝,脸上毫无血色,他那表情一向宁静高贵的脸由于悲哀而神色大变,他的臂弯里抱着那个已经无法起死回生的孩子。他单腿跪下,虔敬地把他放在他母亲的旁边,然后他走出房间在楼梯上遇到一个仆人,鈥溛O壬谀亩库澦势腿恕
那个仆人没吭声,指了指花园。基督山走下楼梯,向仆人所指的那个方向走过去,看见维尔福被他的仆人围在中间,他的手里拿着一把铲子,正在疯狂地挖着泥土。鈥溦舛挥校♀
他喊道。于是他再向前面走几步,重新再挖。
基督山走到他的身边,低声说:鈥湼笙拢愕娜肥チ艘桓龆樱氢斺斺
维尔福打断他的话,他听不懂,也根本听不到。鈥溹蓿一嵴业剿模♀澦暗溃溎忝嵌己逦遥邓辉谡舛一嵴业剿模欢ǖ谜蚁氯ィ♀
基督山恐慌地往后退去。鈥溹蓿♀澦担溗枥玻♀澫笫桥履亲芴熳缰涞姆孔拥那奖诨嵬蝗坏顾频模艿浇稚希谝淮嗡蓟骋勺约壕烤褂忻挥腥ɡ鏊龅哪切┦虑椤b溹蓿焕玻斺敼焕玻澦暗溃溈烊グ炎詈蟮囊桓鼍瘸隼窗伞b
一回到家,他就遇到莫雷尔正象一个幽灵似的在他的客厅里来回徘徊。鈥溩急敢幌掳桑砦髅桌肌b澆舸盼⑿λ担溛颐敲魈炖肟屠琛b
鈥溎阍谡舛挥斜鸬氖乱桑库澞锥省
鈥溍挥辛耍澔缴酱鸬溃溕系劭硭∥遥残砦乙丫龅锰至耍♀
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