The Count of Monte Cristo

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pipes and coffee, and disappeared. By degrees, the light of the lamps
gradually faded in the hands of the marble statues which held them, and
the perfumes appeared less powerful to Morrel. Seated opposite to him,
Monte Cristo watched him in the shadow, and Morrel saw nothing but the
bright eyes of the count. An overpowering sadness took possession of
the young man, his hands relaxed their hold, the objects in the room
gradually lost their form and color, and his disturbed vision seemed to
perceive doors and curtains open in the walls.

"Friend," he cried, "I feel that I am dying; thanks!" He made a last
effort to extend his hand, but it fell powerless beside him. Then it
appeared to him that Monte Cristo smiled, not with the strange and
fearful expression which had sometimes revealed to him the secrets of
his heart, but with the benevolent kindness of a father for a child.
At the same time the count appeared to increase in stature, his form,
nearly double its usual height, stood out in relief against the red
tapestry, his black hair was thrown back, and he stood in the attitude