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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 680/1279
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"
By
the
tower
of
Montlhery
,
you
mean
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
Thank
you
.
Good-by
.
On
Saturday
I
will
tell
you
my
impressions
concerning
the
telegraph
.
"
At
the
door
the
count
was
met
by
the
two
notaries
,
who
had
just
completed
the
act
which
was
to
disinherit
Valentine
,
and
who
were
leaving
under
the
conviction
of
having
done
a
thing
which
could
not
fail
of
redounding
considerably
to
their
credit
.
Not
on
the
same
night
,
as
he
had
intended
,
but
the
next
morning
,
the
Count
of
Monte
Cristo
went
out
by
the
Barrier
d'Enfer
,
taking
the
road
to
Orleans
.
Leaving
the
village
of
Linas
,
without
stopping
at
the
telegraph
,
which
flourished
its
great
bony
arms
as
he
passed
,
the
count
reached
the
tower
of
Montlhery
,
situated
,
as
every
one
knows
,
upon
the
highest
point
of
the
plain
of
that
name
.
At
the
foot
of
the
hill
the
count
dismounted
and
began
to
ascend
by
a
little
winding
path
,
about
eighteen
inches
wide
;
when
he
reached
the
summit
he
found
himself
stopped
by
a
hedge
,
upon
which
green
fruit
had
succeeded
to
red
and
white
flowers
.
Monte
Cristo
looked
for
the
entrance
to
the
enclosure
,
and
was
not
long
in
finding
a
little
wooden
gate
,
working
on
willow
hinges
,
and
fastened
with
a
nail
and
string
.
The
count
soon
mastered
the
mechanism
,
the
gate
opened
,
and
he
then
found
himself
in
a
little
garden
,
about
twenty
feet
long
by
twelve
wide
,
bounded
on
one
side
by
part
of
the
hedge
,
which
contained
the
ingenious
contrivance
we
have
called
a
gate
,
and
on
the
other
by
the
old
tower
,
covered
with
ivy
and
studded
with
wall-flowers
.
No
one
would
have
thought
in
looking
at
this
old
,
weather-beaten
,
floral-decked
tower
(
which
might
be
likened
to
an
elderly
dame
dressed
up
to
receive
her
grandchildren
at
a
birthday
feast
)
that
it
would
have
been
capable
of
telling
strange
things
,
if
--
in
addition
to
the
menacing
ears
which
the
proverb
says
all
walls
are
provided
with
--
it
had
also
a
voice
.
The
garden
was
crossed
by
a
path
of
red
gravel
,
edged
by
a
border
of
thick
box
,
of
many
years
'
growth
,
and
of
a
tone
and
color
that
would
have
delighted
the
heart
of
Delacroix
,
our
modern
Rubens
.
This
path
was
formed
in
the
shape
of
the
figure
of
8
,
thus
,
in
its
windings
,
making
a
walk
of
sixty
feet
in
a
garden
of
only
twenty
.
Never
had
Flora
,
the
fresh
and
smiling
goddess
of
gardeners
,
been
honored
with
a
purer
or
more
scrupulous
worship
than
that
which
was
paid
to
her
in
this
little
enclosure
.
In
fact
,
of
the
twenty
rose-trees
which
formed
the
parterre
,
not
one
bore
the
mark
of
the
slug
,
nor
were
there
evidences
anywhere
of
the
clustering
aphis
which
is
so
destructive
to
plants
growing
in
a
damp
soil
.
And
yet
it
was
not
because
the
damp
had
been
excluded
from
the
garden
;
the
earth
,
black
as
soot
,
the
thick
foliage
of
the
trees
betrayed
its
presence
;
besides
,
had
natural
humidity
been
wanting
,
it
could
have
been
immediately
supplied
by
artificial
means
,
thanks
to
a
tank
of
water
,
sunk
in
one
of
the
corners
of
the
garden
,
and
upon
which
were
stationed
a
frog
and
a
toad
,
who
,
from
antipathy
,
no
doubt
,
always
remained
on
the
two
opposite
sides
of
the
basin
.
There
was
not
a
blade
of
grass
to
be
seen
in
the
paths
,
or
a
weed
in
the
flower-beds
;
no
fine
lady
ever
trained
and
watered
her
geraniums
,
her
cacti
,
and
her
rhododendrons
,
with
more
pains
than
this
hitherto
unseen
gardener
bestowed
upon
his
little
enclosure
.
Monte
Cristo
stopped
after
having
closed
the
gate
and
fastened
the
string
to
the
nail
,
and
cast
a
look
around
.
"
The
man
at
the
telegraph
,
"
said
he
,
"
must
either
engage
a
gardener
or
devote
himself
passionately
to
agriculture
.
"
Suddenly
he
struck
against
something
crouching
behind
a
wheelbarrow
filled
with
leaves
;
the
something
rose
,
uttering
an
exclamation
of
astonishment
,
and
Monte
Cristo
found
himself
facing
a
man
about
fifty
years
old
,
who
was
plucking
strawberries
,
which
he
was
placing
upon
grape
leaves
.
He
had
twelve
leaves
and
about
as
many
strawberries
,
which
,
on
rising
suddenly
,
he
let
fall
from
his
hand
.
"
You
are
gathering
your
crop
,
sir
?
"
said
Monte
Cristo
,
smiling
.
"
Excuse
me
,
sir
,
"
replied
the
man
,
raising
his
hand
to
his
cap
;
"
I
am
not
up
there
,
I
know
,
but
I
have
only
just
come
down
.
"
"
Do
not
let
me
interfere
with
you
in
anything
,
my
friend
,
"
said
the
count
;
"
gather
your
strawberries
,
if
,
indeed
,
there
are
any
left
.
"
