The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (best book club books .TXT) ๐
Description
Edmond Dantรจs is a young man about to be made captain of a cargo vessel and marry his sweetheart. But he is arrested at his pre-wedding feast, having been falsely accused of being a Bonapartist. Thrown into the notorious Chรขteau dโIf prison, he eventually meets an ancient inmate who teaches him language, science, and passes hints of a hidden fortune. When Edmond makes his way out of prison, he plots to reward those who stood by him (his old employer, for one), and to seek revenge on the men who betrayed him: one who wrote the letter that denounced him, one that married his fiancรฉe in his absence, and one who knew Dantรจs was innocent but stood idly by and did nothing.
The Count of Monte Cristo is another of Alexandre Dumasโ thrilling adventure stories, possibly more popular even than The Three Musketeers. Originally serialized in a French newspaper over the course of a year-and-a-half, it was enormously popular after its publication in book form, and has never been out of print since. Its timeless story of adventure, historical drama, romance, revenge, and Eastern mystery has been the source of over forty movies and TV series.
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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
Read book online ยซThe Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (best book club books .TXT) ๐ยป. Author - Alexandre Dumas
โUnknown you say, is the man who rendered you this serviceโ โunknown to you?โ
โYes; we have never had the happiness of pressing his hand,โ continued Maximilian. โWe have supplicated Heaven in vain to grant us this favor, but the whole affair has had a mysterious meaning that we cannot comprehendโ โwe have been guided by an invisible handโ โa hand as powerful as that of an enchanter.โ
โOh,โ cried Julie, โI have not lost all hope of some day kissing that hand, as I now kiss the purse which he has touched. Four years ago, Penelon was at Triesteโ โPenelon, count, is the old sailor you saw in the garden, and who, from quartermaster, has become gardenerโ โPenelon, when he was at Trieste, saw on the quay an Englishman, who was on the point of embarking on board a yacht, and he recognized him as the person who called on my father the fifth of June, 1829, and who wrote me this letter on the fifth of September. He felt convinced of his identity, but he did not venture to address him.โ
โAn Englishman,โ said Monte Cristo, who grew uneasy at the attention with which Julie looked at him. โAn Englishman you say?โ
โYes,โ replied Maximilian, โan Englishman, who represented himself as the confidential clerk of the house of Thomson & French, at Rome. It was this that made me start when you said the other day, at M. de Morcerfโs, that Messrs. Thomson & French were your bankers. That happened, as I told you, in 1829. For Godโs sake, tell me, did you know this Englishman?โ
โBut you tell me, also, that the house of Thomson & French have constantly denied having rendered you this service?โ
โYes.โ
โThen is it not probable that this Englishman may be someone who, grateful for a kindness your father had shown him, and which he himself had forgotten, has taken this method of requiting the obligation?โ
โEverything is possible in this affair, even a miracle.โ
โWhat was his name?โ asked Monte Cristo.
โHe gave no other name,โ answered Julie, looking earnestly at the count, โthan that at the end of his letterโ โโSinbad the Sailor.โโโ
โWhich is evidently not his real name, but a fictitious one.โ
Then, noticing that Julie was struck with the sound of his voice:
โTell me,โ continued he, โwas he not about my height, perhaps a little taller, with his chin imprisoned, as it were, in a high cravat; his coat closely buttoned up, and constantly taking out his pencil?โ
โOh, do you then know him?โ cried Julie, whose eyes sparkled with joy.
โNo,โ returned Monte Cristo โI only guessed. I knew a Lord Wilmore, who was constantly doing actions of this kind.โ
โWithout revealing himself?โ
โHe was an eccentric being, and did not believe in the existence of gratitude.โ
โOh, Heaven,โ exclaimed Julie, clasping her hands, โin what did he believe, then?โ
โHe did not credit it at the period which I knew him,โ said Monte Cristo, touched to the heart by the accents of Julieโs voice; โbut, perhaps, since then he has had proofs that gratitude does exist.โ
โAnd do you know this gentleman, monsieur?โ inquired Emmanuel.
โOh, if you do know him,โ cried Julie, โcan you tell us where he isโ โwhere we can find him? Maximilianโ โEmmanuelโ โif we do but discover him, he must believe in the gratitude of the heart!โ
Monte Cristo felt tears start into his eyes, and he again walked hastily up and down the room.
โIn the name of Heaven,โ said Maximilian, โif you know anything of him, tell us what it is.โ
โAlas,โ cried Monte Cristo, striving to repress his emotion, โif Lord Wilmore was your unknown benefactor, I fear you will never see him again. I parted from him two years ago at Palermo, and he was then on the point of setting out for the most remote regions; so that I fear he will never return.โ
โOh, monsieur, this is cruel of you,โ said Julie, much affected; and the young ladyโs eyes swam with tears.
โMadame,โ replied Monte Cristo gravely, and gazing earnestly on the two liquid pearls that trickled down Julieโs cheeks, โhad Lord Wilmore seen what I now see, he would become attached to life, for the tears you shed would reconcile him to mankindโ; and he held out his hand to Julie, who gave him hers, carried away by the look and accent of the count.
โBut,โ continued she, โLord Wilmore had a family or friends, he must have known someone, can we notโ โโ
โOh, it is useless to inquire,โ returned the count; โperhaps, after all, he was not the man you seek for. He was my friend: he had no secrets from me, and if this had been so he would have confided in me.โ
โAnd he told you nothing?โ
โNot a word.โ
โNothing that would lead you to suppose?โ
โNothing.โ
โAnd yet you spoke of him at once.โ
โAh, in such a case one supposesโ โโ
โSister, sister,โ said Maximilian, coming to the countโs aid, โmonsieur is quite right. Recollect what our excellent father so often told us, โIt was no Englishman that thus saved us.โโโ
Monte Cristo started. โWhat did your father tell you, M. Morrel?โ said he eagerly.
โMy father thought that this action had been miraculously performedโ โhe believed that a benefactor had arisen from the grave to save us. Oh, it was a touching superstition, monsieur, and although I did not myself believe it, I would not for the world have destroyed my fatherโs faith. How often did he muse over it and pronounce the name of a dear friendโ โa friend lost to him forever; and on his deathbed, when the near approach of eternity seemed to have illumined his mind with supernatural light, this thought, which had until then been but a doubt, became a conviction, and his last words were, โMaximilian, it was Edmond Dantรจs!โโโ
At these words the countโs paleness, which had for some time been increasing, became alarming; he could not speak; he looked at his watch like a man who has forgotten the hour, said a few hurried words to Madame Herbault, and pressing the hands of Emmanuel and Maximilianโ โโMadame,โ said he, โI trust you will allow me to visit
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