The Count of Monte Cristo

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"My friend," said the count, "I have still one doubt,--are you weak
enough to pride yourself upon your sufferings?"

"No, indeed,--I am calm," said Morrel, giving his hand to the count; "my
pulse does not beat slower or faster than usual. No, I feel that I have
reached the goal, and I will go no farther. You told me to wait and
hope; do you know what you did, unfortunate adviser? I waited a month,
or rather I suffered for a month! I did hope (man is a poor wretched
creature), I did hope. What I cannot tell,--something wonderful, an
absurdity, a miracle,--of what nature he alone can tell who has mingled
with our reason that folly we call hope. Yes, I did wait--yes, I did
hope, count, and during this quarter of an hour we have been talking
together, you have unconsciously wounded, tortured my heart, for every
word you have uttered proved that there was no hope for me. Oh, count,
I shall sleep calmly, deliciously in the arms of death." Morrel uttered
these words with an energy which made the count shudder. "My friend,"
continued Morrel, "you named the fifth of October as the end of the