The Count of Monte Cristo

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covered with the shame inspired by the eloquence of his irreproachable
virtue,--she, a poor, weak woman, without help or the power of defending
herself against his absolute and supreme will,--she might at that very
moment, perhaps, be preparing to die! An hour had elapsed since her
condemnation; at that moment, doubtless, she was recalling all her
crimes to her memory; she was asking pardon for her sins; perhaps
she was even writing a letter imploring forgiveness from her virtuous
husband--a forgiveness she was purchasing with her death! Villefort
again groaned with anguish and despair. "Ah," he exclaimed, "that woman
became criminal only from associating with me! I carried the infection
of crime with me, and she has caught it as she would the typhus fever,
the cholera, the plague! And yet I have punished her--I have dared to
tell her--I have--'Repent and die!' But no, she must not die; she shall
live, and with me. We will flee from Paris and go as far as the earth
reaches. I told her of the scaffold; oh, heavens, I forgot that it
awaits me also! How could I pronounce that word? Yes, we will fly;
I will confess all to her,--I will tell her daily that I also have