The Count of Monte Cristo

Back Forward Menu

"You heard it for the first time at Marseilles, twenty-three years ago,
the day of your marriage with Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran. Refer to your
papers."

"You are not Busoni?--you are not Monte Cristo? Oh, heavens--you are,
then, some secret, implacable, and mortal enemy! I must have wronged you
in some way at Marseilles. Oh, woe to me!"

"Yes; you are now on the right path," said the count, crossing his arms
over his broad chest; "search--search!"

"But what have I done to you?" exclaimed Villefort, whose mind was
balancing between reason and insanity, in that cloud which is neither a
dream nor reality; "what have I done to you? Tell me, then! Speak!"

"You condemned me to a horrible, tedious death; you killed my father;
you deprived me of liberty, of love, and happiness."