-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Александр Дюма
-
- Граф Монте-Кристо
-
- Стр. 760/1279
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Yes
,
yes
,
I
understand
very
well
,
"
ejaculated
the
baroness
;
"
never
,
I
swear
to
you
.
"
"
Were
you
ever
in
the
habit
of
writing
in
the
evening
what
had
transpired
in
the
morning
?
Do
you
keep
a
journal
?
"
"
No
,
my
life
has
been
passed
in
frivolity
;
I
wish
to
forget
it
myself
"
"
Do
you
talk
in
your
sleep
?
"
"
I
sleep
soundly
,
like
a
child
;
do
you
not
remember
?
"
The
color
mounted
to
the
baroness
's
face
,
and
Villefort
turned
awfully
pale
.
"
It
is
true
,
"
said
he
,
in
so
low
a
tone
that
he
could
hardly
be
heard
.
"
Well
?
"
said
the
baroness
.
"
Well
,
I
understand
what
I
now
have
to
do
,
"
replied
Villefort
.
"
In
less
than
one
week
from
this
time
I
will
ascertain
who
this
M.
de
Monte
Cristo
is
,
whence
he
comes
,
where
he
goes
,
and
why
he
speaks
in
our
presence
of
children
that
have
been
disinterred
in
a
garden
.
"
Villefort
pronounced
these
words
with
an
accent
which
would
have
made
the
count
shudder
had
he
heard
him
.
Then
he
pressed
the
hand
the
baroness
reluctantly
gave
him
,
and
led
her
respectfully
back
to
the
door
.
Madame
Danglars
returned
in
another
cab
to
the
passage
,
on
the
other
side
of
which
she
found
her
carriage
,
and
her
coachman
sleeping
peacefully
on
his
box
while
waiting
for
her
.
The
same
day
during
the
interview
between
Madame
Danglars
and
the
procureur
,
a
travelling-carriage
entered
the
Rue
du
Helder
,
passed
through
the
gateway
of
No.
27
,
and
stopped
in
the
yard
.
In
a
moment
the
door
was
opened
,
and
Madame
de
Morcerf
alighted
,
leaning
on
her
son
's
arm
.
Albert
soon
left
her
,
ordered
his
horses
,
and
having
arranged
his
toilet
,
drove
to
the
Champs
Elysees
,
to
the
house
of
Monte
Cristo
.
The
count
received
him
with
his
habitual
smile
.
It
was
a
strange
thing
that
no
one
ever
appeared
to
advance
a
step
in
that
man
's
favor
.
Those
who
would
,
as
it
were
,
force
a
passage
to
his
heart
,
found
an
impassable
barrier
.
Morcerf
,
who
ran
towards
him
with
open
arms
,
was
chilled
as
he
drew
near
,
in
spite
of
the
friendly
smile
,
and
simply
held
out
his
hand
.
Monte
Cristo
shook
it
coldly
,
according
to
his
invariable
practice
.
"
Here
I
am
,
dear
count
.
"
