The Count of Monte Cristo

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"Yes, madame, he shall live," said Monte Cristo, surprised that without
more emotion Mercedes had accepted the heroic sacrifice he made for her.
Mercedes extended her hand to the count.

"Edmond," said she, and her eyes were wet with tears while looking at
him to whom she spoke, "how noble it is of you, how great the action you
have just performed, how sublime to have taken pity on a poor woman who
appealed to you with every chance against her, Alas, I am grown old with
grief more than with years, and cannot now remind my Edmond by a smile,
or by a look, of that Mercedes whom he once spent so many hours in
contemplating. Ah, believe me, Edmond, as I told you, I too have
suffered much; I repeat, it is melancholy to pass one's life without
having one joy to recall, without preserving a single hope; but that
proves that all is not yet over. No, it is not finished; I feel it by
what remains in my heart. Oh, I repeat it, Edmond; what you have just
done is beautiful--it is grand; it is sublime."