The Count of Monte Cristo

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powerfully that the tempestuous heaving of his breast subsided, as
turbulent and foaming waves yield to the sun's genial influence when the
cloud has passed. This silence, self-control, and struggle lasted about
twenty seconds, then the count raised his pallid face. "See," said he,
"my dear friend, how God punishes the most thoughtless and unfeeling men
for their indifference, by presenting dreadful scenes to their view. I,
who was looking on, an eager and curious spectator,--I, who was watching
the working of this mournful tragedy,--I, who like a wicked angel was
laughing at the evil men committed protected by secrecy (a secret is
easily kept by the rich and powerful), I am in my turn bitten by the
serpent whose tortuous course I was watching, and bitten to the heart!"

Morrel groaned. "Come, come," continued the count, "complaints are
unavailing, be a man, be strong, be full of hope, for I am here and will
watch over you." Morrel shook his head sorrowfully. "I tell you to
hope. Do you understand me?" cried Monte Cristo. "Remember that I
never uttered a falsehood and am never deceived. It is twelve o'clock,