Madame et monsieur, bonsoir. Disguised under the title of The Count of Monte Cristo, my friend’s enigmatic entrance to Paris has captivated his enemies’ attentions. No one has yet to discover who he is nor of the relentlessly approaching visage, which their vices have given birth to. I told my friend, to use the life he saved on the moon to sing the tale of their doom. However that instrument plays too young and too beautiful…my friend only fears that his heart was merely numb, which may beat again at its playful melody.
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