-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Александр Дюма
-
- Граф Монте-Кристо
-
- Стр. 199/1279
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Two
years
!
"
exclaimed
Dantes
;
"
do
you
really
believe
I
can
acquire
all
these
things
in
so
short
a
time
?
"
"
Not
their
application
,
certainly
,
but
their
principles
you
may
;
to
learn
is
not
to
know
;
there
are
the
learners
and
the
learned
.
Memory
makes
the
one
,
philosophy
the
other
.
"
"
But
can
not
one
learn
philosophy
?
"
"
Philosophy
can
not
be
taught
;
it
is
the
application
of
the
sciences
to
truth
;
it
is
like
the
golden
cloud
in
which
the
Messiah
went
up
into
heaven
.
"
"
Well
,
then
,
"
said
Dantes
,
"
What
shall
you
teach
me
first
?
I
am
in
a
hurry
to
begin
.
I
want
to
learn
.
"
"
Everything
,
"
said
the
abbe
.
And
that
very
evening
the
prisoners
sketched
a
plan
of
education
,
to
be
entered
upon
the
following
day
.
Dantes
possessed
a
prodigious
memory
,
combined
with
an
astonishing
quickness
and
readiness
of
conception
;
the
mathematical
turn
of
his
mind
rendered
him
apt
at
all
kinds
of
calculation
,
while
his
naturally
poetical
feelings
threw
a
light
and
pleasing
veil
over
the
dry
reality
of
arithmetical
computation
,
or
the
rigid
severity
of
geometry
.
He
already
knew
Italian
,
and
had
also
picked
up
a
little
of
the
Romaic
dialect
during
voyages
to
the
East
;
and
by
the
aid
of
these
two
languages
he
easily
comprehended
the
construction
of
all
the
others
,
so
that
at
the
end
of
six
months
he
began
to
speak
Spanish
,
English
,
and
German
.
In
strict
accordance
with
the
promise
made
to
the
abbe
,
Dantes
spoke
no
more
of
escape
.
Perhaps
the
delight
his
studies
afforded
him
left
no
room
for
such
thoughts
;
perhaps
the
recollection
that
he
had
pledged
his
word
(
on
which
his
sense
of
honor
was
keen
)
kept
him
from
referring
in
any
way
to
the
possibilities
of
flight
.
Days
,
even
months
,
passed
by
unheeded
in
one
rapid
and
instructive
course
.
At
the
end
of
a
year
Dantes
was
a
new
man
.
Dantes
observed
,
however
,
that
Faria
,
in
spite
of
the
relief
his
society
afforded
,
daily
grew
sadder
;
one
thought
seemed
incessantly
to
harass
and
distract
his
mind
.
Sometimes
he
would
fall
into
long
reveries
,
sigh
heavily
and
involuntarily
,
then
suddenly
rise
,
and
,
with
folded
arms
,
begin
pacing
the
confined
space
of
his
dungeon
.
One
day
he
stopped
all
at
once
,
and
exclaimed
,
"
Ah
,
if
there
were
no
sentinel
!
"
"
There
shall
not
be
one
a
minute
longer
than
you
please
,
"
said
Dantes
,
who
had
followed
the
working
of
his
thoughts
as
accurately
as
though
his
brain
were
enclosed
in
crystal
so
clear
as
to
display
its
minutest
operations
.
"
I
have
already
told
you
,
"
answered
the
abbe
,
"
that
I
loathe
the
idea
of
shedding
blood
.
"
"
And
yet
the
murder
,
if
you
choose
to
call
it
so
,
would
be
simply
a
measure
of
self-preservation
.
"
