The Count of Monte Cristo

Back Forward Menu

another word, count; do not prolong my punishment." The count fancied
that he was yielding, and this belief revived the horrible doubt that
had overwhelmed him at the Chateau d'If. "I am endeavoring," he thought,
"to make this man happy; I look upon this restitution as a weight thrown
into the scale to balance the evil I have wrought. Now, supposing I
am deceived, supposing this man has not been unhappy enough to merit
happiness. Alas, what would become of me who can only atone for evil by
doing good?" Then he said aloud: "Listen, Morrel, I see your grief
is great, but still you do not like to risk your soul." Morrel smiled
sadly. "Count," he said, "I swear to you my soul is no longer my own."

"Maximilian, you know I have no relation in the world. I have accustomed
myself to regard you as my son: well, then, to save my son, I will
sacrifice my life, nay, even my fortune."

"What do you mean?"