stand that, to have done all this, I must have been actuated by real uneasiness, or rather by a terrible conviction. Morrel, you are going to destroy yourself!"
"Indeed, count!" said Morrel, shuddering; "what has put this into your head?"
"I tell you that you are about to destroy yourself," continued the count; "and here is the proof of what I say;" and, approaching the desk, he removed the sheet of paper which Morrel had placed over the letter he had begun, and took the latter in his hands.
Morrel rushed forward to tear it from him; but Monte-Cristo perceiving his intention, seized his wrist with his iron grasp.
"You wish to destroy yourself," said the count; "you have written it."
"Well!" said Morrel, changing his expression of calmness for one of violence—"well, and if I do intend to turn this pistol against myself, who shall prevent me who will dare prevent me? When I say, all my hopes are blighted, my heart is broken, my life a burden, everything around me is sad and mournful; earth has become distasteful to me, and human voices distract me. When I say, it is a mercy to let me die, for if I live I shall lose my reason and become mad. When, sir, I say all this with tears of heartfelt anguish, who will reply that I am wrong? Who will prevent my putting an end to my miserable existence? Tell me, sir, could you have the courage to do so?"
"Yes, Morrel," said Monte-Cristo, with a calmness which contrasted strangely with the young man's excitement; "yes, I would do so."
"You!" exclaimed Morrel, with increasing auger and reproach—"you, who have deceived me with false hopes, who have cheered and soothed me with vain promises, when I might, by some sudden stroke, some desperate resolution, if not have saved her, at least have seen her die in my arms! you, who pretend to understand everything, even the hidden sources of knowledge! you, who enact, or pretend to enact, the part of a Providence upon earth, and could not even find an antidote to a poison administered to a young girl! Ah, sir, indeed you would inspire me with pity, were you not hateful in my eyes."
"Morrel!———"
"Yes; you tell me to lay aside the mask, and I will do so, be satisfied. When you spoke to me at the cemetery, I answered you—my heart was softened; when you arrived here, I allowed you to enter. But since you abuse my confidence, since you have devised a new torture after I thought I had exhausted them all, then, Count of Monte-Cristo, my pretended benefactor then, Count of Monte-Cristo, the universal guardian, be satisfied, you shall witness the death of your friend"; and Morrel, with a maniacal laugh, again rushed toward the pistols.
