The Count of Monte Cristo

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you gesticulate, you wring your hands and roll your eyes like a man
possessed by a devil who will not leave him; and I have always observed,
that the devil most obstinate to be expelled is a secret. I knew you
were a Corsican. I knew you were gloomy, and always brooding over some
old history of the vendetta; and I overlooked that in Italy, because
in Italy those things are thought nothing of. But in France they are
considered in very bad taste; there are gendarmes who occupy themselves
with such affairs, judges who condemn, and scaffolds which avenge."
Bertuccio clasped his hands, and as, in all these evolutions, he did not
let fall the lantern, the light showed his pale and altered countenance.
Monte Cristo examined him with the same look that, at Rome, he had bent
upon the execution of Andrea, and then, in a tone that made a shudder
pass through the veins of the poor steward,--"The Abbe Busoni, then told
me an untruth," said he, "when, after his journey in France, in 1829, he
sent you to me, with a letter of recommendation, in which he enumerated
all your valuable qualities. Well, I shall write to the abbe; I shall
hold him responsible for his protege's misconduct, and I shall soon know