The Count of Monte Cristo

Back Forward Menu

"There! But listen to me--listen--and you will pity me who has for
twenty years alone borne the heavy burden of grief I am about to reveal,
without casting the least portion upon you."

"Oh, you frighten me! But speak; I will listen."

"You recollect that sad night, when you were half-expiring on that
bed in the red damask room, while I, scarcely less agitated than you,
awaited your delivery. The child was born, was given to me--motionless,
breathless, voiceless; we thought it dead." Madame Danglars moved
rapidly, as though she would spring from her chair, but Villefort
stopped, and clasped his hands as if to implore her attention. "We
thought it dead," he repeated; "I placed it in the chest, which was to
take the place of a coffin; I descended to the garden, I dug a hole, and
then flung it down in haste. Scarcely had I covered it with earth, when
the arm of the Corsican was stretched towards me; I saw a shadow rise,
and, at the same time, a flash of light. I felt pain; I wished to cry