cedant arma toage (拉丁文：用长袍代替武器吧）
pastor quum traheret (拉丁文：当牧人率领羊群的时候）
mala ducie avi domum（拉丁文：你持家险象环生。）
bell,horrida bella （拉丁文）：战争，可怕的战争。）
justum et tenacem propositi virum (拉丁文:一个公正而意志坚定的人）
被撒旦掳到地球的最高山上，他站在顶峰指给我看全世界，还像从前对基督那样对我说：喏，人类的孩子，你要求什么，就可以崇拜我？ 于是，我思考许久，因为确实有一种巨大的野心，很久以来就吞食我的灵魂；然后我答道：听我说，我总听人谈论天主，但是我从未见过，连类似的东西都未见过，因而以为根本就没有天主。我要做天主，因为据我所知，世间最美、最伟大、最崇高的事情，莫过于扬善惩恶。 当时撒旦低下头，叹息一声，说道：你错了，天主存在，你只是看不见，因为他是上帝之子同上帝一样是看不见的。你也一点也没有见类似他的东西。那也是因为他总通过隐蔽的方式行事，总是走在暗道密经。我所能为你做的就是把你变成天主的使者。就此成交在这笔交易中，也许我要丧失灵魂，但是这又何妨，如果再有机会，我还会做这种交易。
“Valentine, Valentine!” he mentally ejaculated; but his lips uttered no sound, and as though all his strength were centred in that internal emotion, he sighed and closed his eyes. Valentine rushed towards him; his lips again moved.
“He is calling you,” said the count; “he to whom you have confided your destiny–he from whom death would have separated you, calls you to him. Happily, I vanquished death. Henceforth, Valentine, you will never again be separated on earth, since he has rushed into death to find you. Without me, you would both have died. May God accept my atonement in the preservation of these two existences!”
Valentine seized the count’s hand, and in her irresistible impulse of joy carried it to her lips.
“Oh, thank me again!” said the count; “tell me till you are weary, that I have restored you to happiness; you do not know how much I require this assurance.”
“Oh, yes, yes, I thank you with all my heart,” said Valentine; “and if you doubt the sincerity of my gratitude, oh, then, ask Haidée! ask my beloved sister Haidée, who ever since our departure from France, has caused me to wait patiently for this happy day, while talking to me of you.”
“You then love Haidée?” asked Monte Cristo with an emotion he in vain endeavored to dissimulate.
“Oh, yes, with all my soul.”
“Well, then, listen, Valentine,” said the count; “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Of me? Oh, am I happy enough for that?”
“Yes; you have called Haidée your sister,–let her become so indeed, Valentine; render her all the gratitude you fancy that you owe to me; protect her, for” (the count’s voice was thick with emotion) “henceforth she will be alone in the world.”
“Alone in the world!” repeated a voice behind the count, “and why?”
Monte Cristo turned around; Haidée was standing pale, motionless, looking at the count with an expression of fearful amazement.
“Because to-morrow, Haidée, you will be free; you will then assume your proper position in society, for I will not allow my destiny to overshadow yours. Daughter of a prince, I restore to you the riches and name of your father.”
Haidée became pale, and lifting her transparent hands to heaven, exclaimed in a voice stifled with tears, “Then you leave me, my lord?”
“Haidée, Haidée, you are young and beautiful; forget even my name, and be happy.”
“It is well,” said Haidée; “your order shall be executed, my lord; I will forget even your name, and be happy.” And she stepped back to retire.
“Oh, heavens,” exclaimed Valentine, who was supporting the head of Morrel on her shoulder, “do you not see how pale she is? Do you not see how she suffers?”
Haidée answered with a heartrending expression, “Why should he understand this, my sister? He is my master, and I am his slave; he has the right to notice nothing.”
The count shuddered at the tones of a voice which penetrated the inmost recesses of his heart; his eyes met those of the young girl and he could not bear their brilliancy. “Oh, heavens,” exclaimed Monte Cristo, “can my suspicions be correct? Haidée, would it please you not to leave me?”
“I am young,” gently replied Haidée; “I love the life you have made so sweet to me, and I should be sorry to die.”
“You mean, then, that if I leave you, Haidée”–
“I should die; yes, my lord.”
“Do you then love me?”
“Oh, Valentine, he asks if I love him. Valentine, tell him if you love Maximilian.” The count felt his heart dilate and throb; he opened his arms, and Haidée, uttering a cry, sprang into them. “Oh, yes,” she cried, “I do love you! I love you as one loves a father, brother, husband! I love you as my life, for you are the best, the noblest of created beings!”
“Let it be, then, as you wish, sweet angel; God has sustained me in my struggle with my enemies, and has given me this reward; he will not let me end my triumph in suffering; I wished to punish myself, but he has pardoned me. Love me then, Haidée! Who knows? perhaps your love will make me forget all that I do not wish to remember.”
“What do you mean, my lord?”
“I mean that one word from you has enlightened me more than twenty years of slow experience; I have but you in the world, Haidée; through you I again take hold on life, through you I shall suffer, through you rejoice.”
“Do you hear him, Valentine?” exclaimed Haidée; “he says that through me he will suffer–through me, who would yield my life for his.” The count withdrew for a moment. “Have I discovered the truth?” he said; “but whether it be for recompense or punishment, I accept my fate. Come, Haidée, come!” and throwing his arm around the young girl’s waist, he pressed the hand of Valentine, and disappeared.
An hour had nearly passed, during which Valentine, breathless and motionless, watched steadfastly over Morrel. At length she felt his heart beat, a faint breath played upon his lips, a slight shudder, announcing the return of life, passed through the young man’s frame. At length his eyes opened, but they were at first fixed and expressionless; then sight returned, and with it feeling and grief. “Oh,” he cried, in an accent of despair, “the count has deceived me; I am yet living; “and extending his hand towards the table, he seized a knife.
“Dearest,” exclaimed Valentine, with her adorable smile, “awake, and look at me!” Morrel uttered a loud exclamation, and frantic, doubtful, dazzled, as though by a celestial vision, he fell upon his knees.
The next morning at daybreak, Valentine and Morrel were walking arm-in-arm on the sea-shore, Valentine relating how Monte Cristo had appeared in her room, explained everything, revealed the crime, and, finally, how he had saved her life by enabling her to simulate death. They had found the door of the grotto opened, and gone forth; on the azure dome of heaven still glittered a few remaining stars. Morrel soon perceived a man standing among the rocks, apparently awaiting a sign from them to advance, and pointed him out to Valentine. “Ah, it is Jacopo,” she said, “the captain of the yacht; “and she beckoned him towards them.
“Do you wish to speak to us?” asked Morrel.
“I have a letter to give you from the count.”
“From the count!” murmured the two young people.
“Yes; read it.” Morrel opened the letter, and read:–
“MY DEAR MAXIMILIAN,–
“There is a felucca for you at anchor. Jacopo will carry you to Leghorn, where Monsieur Noirtier awaits his granddaughter, whom he wishes to bless before you lead her to the altar. All that is in this grotto, my friend, my house in the Champs Elysées, and my Chateau at Tréport, are the marriage gifts bestowed by Edmond Dantès upon the son of his old master, Morrel. Mademoiselle de Villefort will share them with you; for I entreat her to give to the poor the immense fortune reverting to her from her father, now a madman, and her brother who died last September with his mother. Tell the angel who will watch over your future destiny, Morrel, to pray sometimes for a man, who like Satan thought himself for an instant equal to God, but who now acknowledges with Christian humility that God alone possesses supreme power and infinite wisdom. Perhaps those prayers may soften the remorse he feels in his heart. As for you, Morrel, this is the secret of my conduct towards you. There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of living.
“Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget that until the day when God shall deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words,–‘Wait and hope.’ Your friend,
“EDMOND DANTèS, COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO.”
During the perusal of this letter, which informed Valentine for the first time of the madness of her father and the death of her brother, she became pale, a heavy sigh escaped from her bosom, and tears, not the less painful because they were silent, ran down her cheeks; her happiness cost her very dear. Morrel looked around uneasily. “But,” he said, “the count’s generosity is too overwhelming; Valentine will be satisfied with my humble fortune. Where is the count, friend? Lead me to him.” Jacopo pointed towards the horizon. “What do you mean?” asked Valentine. “Where is the count?–where is Haidée?”
“Look!” said Jacopo.
The eyes of both were fixed upon the spot indicated by the sailor, and on the blue line separating the sky from the Mediterranean Sea, they perceived a large white sail. “Gone,” said Morrel; “gone!–adieu, my friend–adieu, my father!”
“Gone,” murmured Valentine; “adieu, my sweet Haidée–adieu, my sister!”
“Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?” said Morrel with tearful eyes.
“Darling,” replied Valentine, “has not the count just told us that all human wisdom is summed up in two words?–‘Wait and hope.'”