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- Авторы
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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 156/1279
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Thus
the
day
passed
away
.
Edmond
felt
a
sort
of
stupor
creeping
over
him
which
brought
with
it
a
feeling
almost
of
content
;
the
gnawing
pain
at
his
stomach
had
ceased
;
his
thirst
had
abated
;
when
he
closed
his
eyes
he
saw
myriads
of
lights
dancing
before
them
like
the
will-o
'
-
the-wisps
that
play
about
the
marshes
.
It
was
the
twilight
of
that
mysterious
country
called
Death
!
Suddenly
,
about
nine
o'clock
in
the
evening
,
Edmond
heard
a
hollow
sound
in
the
wall
against
which
he
was
lying
.
So
many
loathsome
animals
inhabited
the
prison
,
that
their
noise
did
not
,
in
general
,
awake
him
;
but
whether
abstinence
had
quickened
his
faculties
,
or
whether
the
noise
was
really
louder
than
usual
,
Edmond
raised
his
head
and
listened
.
It
was
a
continual
scratching
,
as
if
made
by
a
huge
claw
,
a
powerful
tooth
,
or
some
iron
instrument
attacking
the
stones
.
Although
weakened
,
the
young
man
's
brain
instantly
responded
to
the
idea
that
haunts
all
prisoners
--
liberty
!
It
seemed
to
him
that
heaven
had
at
length
taken
pity
on
him
,
and
had
sent
this
noise
to
warn
him
on
the
very
brink
of
the
abyss
.
Perhaps
one
of
those
beloved
ones
he
had
so
often
thought
of
was
thinking
of
him
,
and
striving
to
diminish
the
distance
that
separated
them
.
No
,
no
,
doubtless
he
was
deceived
,
and
it
was
but
one
of
those
dreams
that
forerun
death
!
Edmond
still
heard
the
sound
.
It
lasted
nearly
three
hours
;
he
then
heard
a
noise
of
something
falling
,
and
all
was
silent
.
Some
hours
afterwards
it
began
again
,
nearer
and
more
distinct
.
Edmond
was
intensely
interested
.
Suddenly
the
jailer
entered
.
For
a
week
since
he
had
resolved
to
die
,
and
during
the
four
days
that
he
had
been
carrying
out
his
purpose
,
Edmond
had
not
spoken
to
the
attendant
,
had
not
answered
him
when
he
inquired
what
was
the
matter
with
him
,
and
turned
his
face
to
the
wall
when
he
looked
too
curiously
at
him
;
but
now
the
jailer
might
hear
the
noise
and
put
an
end
to
it
,
and
so
destroy
a
ray
of
something
like
hope
that
soothed
his
last
moments
.
The
jailer
brought
him
his
breakfast
.
Dantes
raised
himself
up
and
began
to
talk
about
everything
;
about
the
bad
quality
of
the
food
,
about
the
coldness
of
his
dungeon
,
grumbling
and
complaining
,
in
order
to
have
an
excuse
for
speaking
louder
,
and
wearying
the
patience
of
his
jailer
,
who
out
of
kindness
of
heart
had
brought
broth
and
white
bread
for
his
prisoner
.
