#lotsof me

Lots of me 💓

Here Edmond was to undergo another trial; it was to see if he should recognise himself, never having beheld his own features for fourteen years. He had preserved a tolerably good remembrance of what the youth had been, and was now to find what the man had become… he requested a looking-glass in which he might see himself. He was now, as we have said, three-and-thirty years of age, and his fourteen years’ imprisonment had produced a great change in his appearance. Dantès had entered the Château d’If with the round, open, smiling face of a young, happy man, with whom the early paths of life have been smooth, and who relies on the future as a natural deduction of the past. This was now all changed. His oval face was lengthened, his smiling mouth had assumed the firm and marked lines which betoken resolution; his eyebrows were arched beneath a large and thoughtful wrinkle; his eyes were full of melancholy, and from their depths occasionally sparkled gloomy fires of misanthropy and hatred… the deep learning he had acquired had besides diffused over his features the rays of extreme intellect… More-over, being perpetually in twilight or darkness, his eyes had acquired that singular faculty of distinguishing objects in the night common to the hyena and the wolf. Edmond smiled when he beheld himself: it was impossible that his best friend—if, indeed, he had any friend left— could recognise him; he could not recognise himself.