《基督山伯爵》是法国作家大仲马创作的长篇小说，首次发表于1844年至1846年。故事讲述19世纪法国皇帝拿破仑“百日王朝”时期，法老号大副爱德蒙·唐泰斯受船长委托，为拿破仑党人送了一封信，遭到两个卑鄙小人和法官的陷害，被打入黑牢。期间狱友法利亚神甫向他传授各种知识，并在临终前把埋于基督山岛上的一批宝藏的秘密告诉了他。被陷害入狱十四年后，唐泰斯越狱并找到了宝藏，成为巨富，从此化名基督山伯爵（水手辛巴德、布索尼神父、威尔莫勋爵），经过精心策划，报答了恩人，惩罚了仇人。该小说以基督山伯爵扬善惩恶、报恩复仇为故事发展的中心线索，主要情节跌宕起伏，迂回曲折，从中又演化出若干次要情节，小插曲紧凑精彩，却不喧宾夺主，情节离奇却不违反生活真实。全书出色地运用了“悬念”、“突发”、“发现”、“戏剧”等手法，在叙述上有较大的叙述密度和复杂的人物关系。这一切使这部小说充满了叙述的张力，洋溢着叙述本身所产生的美。因此，《基督山伯爵》被公认为通俗小说的典范。这部小说出版后，很快就赢得了广大读者的青睐，被翻译成几十种文字出版，在法国和美国等地多次被拍成电影。
经典台词
“说真话，”唐太斯说，“你使我太寒心了。难道世界上真的遍地是老虎和鳄鱼吗？”
“是的，但两只脚的老虎和鳄鱼比四只脚的更危险。”
噢，人呀，人呀！鳄鱼的子孙呀！”伯爵把他紧握成拳头的双手伸向人群，大声说道，“我早就认识你们了。你们在任何时候都是自作自受呀！”
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）
哲理是学不会的。哲学是天才掌握并运用的科学的总合，哲学是基督踏着重新升天的五彩祥云。
脆弱啊，你的名字就是女人。 （基督山伯爵引用莎士比亚的《哈姆雷特》的一句话）
人就是忘恩负义，极端自私的畜牲。
一踏上断头台的梯级，死亡就摘掉人一生所带的面具，本相暴露无遗。
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。
（我个人是相信上帝的存在，并且是上帝的虔诚信徒）
毫无疑问，只有女人才善于掩饰。
人富到一定程度，就没有必需品，只追求浮华了；同样，想必这些夫人也会同意：人狂热到了一定程度，就不在考虑实际，而只看重理想了。那么由此推论，最奇妙的东西该是什么？正是我们不理解的东西。我们真正渴望的财富又是什么呢？就是我们得不到的财富。因而，亲眼看到我无法理解的东西，获取无法得到的东西，便是我一生的课题。
正如哈姆雷特所言，埋藏的最深的秘密，有时也会透出点儿风声，好似磷火在空气中乱窜；然而，这类一闪即逝的光亮，却会把人引入歧途。
mane,thecel,phares (巴比伦过的末日到了）
我的上帝啊，我的上帝，请宽恕我一直否认您；您确实存在，您在天上正是人类之父，在人间正是人类的审判官。我的上帝，主啊，我那么就不承认您！我的上帝，主啊，宽恕我吧！我的上帝，主啊，接受我吧！
一个！
女人变化无常，弗朗索瓦一世就这么说过；莎士比亚也说：女人是水中浪花。这两人，一个是伟大的国君，一个是伟大的诗人，他们都了解女人。
狮子被降服了，复仇者认输了。
尤其可怜的埃德蒙也不会被您爱多久了，这个死过的人又要回到坟墓这个幽灵又要回到黑夜中。
设想一下，最高主宰在创造了世界之后，廓清了混沌之后，就在世界创造了将近二分之一之后，又突然停下来，以避免有一天，我们的罪孽会引一位永生的天使流泪；请设想一下，上帝在一切准备就绪之后，在万物创造成型之后，在大地成为沃土之后，他正欣赏自己的杰作时，就一下熄灭了太陽，一脚将世界踢进永世的黑夜里。
真糊涂啊，我下定决心报仇的那一天怎么不把自己的心挖出来呀！
怎么！筹建这么久，这么艰难困苦造起来的大厦，就凭一句话，吹了一口气，顷刻间就倒了吗！怎么！这个我，原以为不同凡响，这个我，原来那么自豪，这个我，在伊夫狱堡的地牢里自视那么渺小，后来又自我塑造的这么强大，后来就化为一撮尘埃吗？唉！这肉躯死不足惜：生命体的这种毁灭，不正是万物，不正是一切不幸者渴望的归宿吗？
良心啊，你要我怎么样呢？哼！我亲爱的，假如他们在睡觉，那就让他们睡吧；假如他们失眠，那么就让他们大惊失色*吧！看在热爱上帝的份上，您就安稳睡觉，您没有亏心事搅扰睡眠。
伟大的城市啊！还不到半年前，我闯进你的大门。我相信是上帝的意志指引我来的，胜利后又带我离开。我来到你这城垣的秘密，只向上帝坦露过；唯独上帝看透了我的心思，唯独上帝了解，我离开实际无怨恨，也不得意，但是不无遗憾；唯独上帝知道，我使用他赋予的威力，既不为一己私利，也没有无端滥施。伟大的城市啊！我是进入你这躁动的胸膛里，找到了我寻找的东西。我好似坚忍不拔的矿工，翻腾了你的五脏六腑，以便铲除罪恶。现在我的任务完成了，我的使命结束了；现在，你既不能给我欢乐，也不能给我痛苦了。别了，巴黎！别了！
算了，你这死里逃生的人；算了，你这行为怪诞的富翁；算了，你这清醒的睡梦这；算了，你这万能的幻视者；算了，你这战无不胜的百万富翁。你稍停片刻，再走的，而绝望接待你的道路，重新走一遍；在基督山认出唐代斯的这面镜子的玻璃上，如今有太多的钻石，太多的黄金，太多的幸福光芒耀眼。藏起这些钻石吧，收起这些黄金，。摸掉这些光辉吧；由自由人变回囚犯，由复活者变回为尸体。
“你忏悔了吗？”一个庄严低沉的声音问道。腾格拉尔听了吓得头发根都直竖起来。他睁大衰弱的眼睛竭力想看清眼前的东西，在那强盗的后面，他看见一个人裹着披风站在石柱的影－陰－里。
“我忏悔什么呢？”腾格拉尔结结巴巴地说。
“忏悔你所做过的坏事。”那个声音说。
“噢，是的！我忏悔了！我忏悔了！”腾格拉尔说，他用他那瘦削的拳头捶着他的胸膛。
“那么我宽恕你。”那人说着就摔下他的披风，走到亮光里。
“基督山伯爵！”腾格拉尔说，饥饿和痛苦使他的脸色*苍白，恐惧更使他面如土色*了。
“你弄错了，我不是基督山伯爵！”
“那末你是谁呢？”
“我就是那个被你诬陷、出卖和污蔑的人。我的未婚妻被你害得过着屈辱的生活。我横遭你的践踏，被你作为升官发财的垫脚石，我的父亲被你害得活活饿死，——我本来也想让你死于饥饿。可是我宽恕了你，因为我也需要宽恕。我就是爱德蒙·唐太斯。”
腾格拉尔大叫一声，摔倒在地上缩成一团。
“起来吧，”伯爵说，“你的生命是安全的。你的那两个同伴可没有你这样幸运，一个疯了，一个死了。留着剩下的那五万法郎吧，我送给你了。你从医院里骗来的那五百万，已经送回给他们了。现在你可以好好地吃一顿。今天晚上你是我的客人。万帕，这个人吃饱以后，就把他放了。”
“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.’”
