passed away; at the end of the second he had ceased to mark the
lapse of time.
Dantes said, "I wish to die," and had chosen the manner of his
death, and fearful of changing his mind, he had taken an oath to
die. "When my morning and evening meals are brought," thought he,
"I will cast them out of the window, and they will think that I
have eaten them."
He kept his word; twice a day he cast out, through the barred
aperture, the provisions his jailer brought him — at first gayly,
then with deliberation, and at last with regret. Nothing but the
recollection of his oath gave him strength to proceed. Hunger made
viands once repugnant, now acceptable; he held the plate in his
hand for an hour at a time, and gazed thoughtfully at the morsel of
bad meat, of tainted fish, of black and mouldy bread. It was the
last yearning for life contending with the resolution of despair;
then his dungeon seemed less sombre, his prospects less desperate.
He was still young — he was only four or five and twenty — he had
nearly fifty years to live. What unforseen events might not open
his prison door, and restore him to liberty? Then he raised to his
lips the repast that, like a voluntary Tantalus, he refused
himself; but he thought of his oath, and he would not break it. He
persisted until, at last, he had not sufficient strength to rise
and cast his supper out of the loophole. The next morning he could
not see or hear; the jailer feared he was dangerously ill. Edmond
hoped he was dying.
Thus the day passed away. Edmond felt a sort of stupor creeping
over him which brought with it a feeling almost of content; the
gnawing pain at his stomach had ceased; his thirst had abated; when
he closed his eyes he saw myriads of lights dancing before them
like the will-o'-the-wisps that play about the marshes. It was the
twilight of that mysterious country called Death!
Suddenly, about nine o'clock in the evening, Edmond heard a
hollow sound in the wall against which he was lying.
So many loathsome animals inhabited the prison, that their noiseSo many loathsome animals inhabited the prison, that their noise
did not, in general, awake him; but whether abstinence had
quickened his faculties, or whether the noise was really louder
than usual, Edmond raised his head and listened. It was a continual
scratching, as if made by a huge claw, a powerful tooth, or some
iron instrument attacking the stones.
Although weakened, the young man's brain instantly responded to
the idea that haunts all prisoners — liberty! It seemed to him that
heaven had at length taken pity on him, and had sent this noise to
warn him on the very brink of the abyss. Perhaps one of those
beloved ones he had so often thought of was thinking of him, and
striving to diminish the distance that separated them.
No, no, doubtless he was deceived, and it was but one of those
dreams that forerun death!
Edmond still heard the sound. It lasted nearly three hours; he
then heard a noise of something falling, and all was silent.
Some hours afterwards it began again, nearer and more distinct.
Edmond was intensely interested. Suddenly the jailer entered.
For a week since he had resolved to die, and during the four
days that he had been carrying out his purpose, Edmond had not
spoken to the attendant, had not answered him when he inquired what
was the matter with him, and turned his face to the wall when he
looked too curiously at him; but now the jailer might hear the
noise and put an end to it, and so destroy a ray of something like
hope that soothed his last moments.
The jailer brought him his breakfast. Dantes raised himself up
and began to talk about everything; about the bad quality of the
food, about the coldness of his dungeon, grumbling and complaining,
in order to have an excuse for speaking louder, and wearying the
patience of his jailer, who out of kindness of heart had brought
broth and white bread for his prisoner.
Fortunately, he fancied that Dantes was delirious; and placing
the food on the rickety table, he withdrew. Edmond listened, and
the sound became more and more distinct.the sound became more and more distinct.
"There can be no doubt about it," thought he; "it is some
prisoner who is striving to obtain his freedom. Oh, if I were only
there to help him!" Suddenly another idea took possession of his
mind, so used to misfortune, that it was scarcely capable of hope —
the idea that the noise was made by workmen the governor had
ordered to repair the neighboring dungeon.
It was easy to ascertain this; but how could he risk the
question? It was easy to call his jailer's attention to the noise,
and watch his countenance as he listened; but might he not by this
means destroy hopes far more important than the short-lived
satisfaction of his own curiosity? Unfortunately, Edmond's brain
was still so feeble that he could not bend his thoughts to anything
in particular.
He saw but one means of restoring lucidity and clearness to his
judgment. He turned his eyes towards the soup which the jailer had
brought, rose, staggered towards it, raised the vessel to his lips,
and drank off the contents with a feeling of indescribable
pleasure. He had often heard that shipwrecked persons had died
through having eagerly devoured too much food. Edmond replaced on
the table the bread he was about to devour, and returned to his
couch — he did not wish to die. He soon felt that his ideas became
again collected — he could think, and strengthen his thoughts by
reasoning. Then he said to himself, "I must put this to the test,
but without compromising anybody. If it is a workman, I need but
knock against the wall, and he will cease to work, in order to find
out who is knocking, and why he does so; but as his occupation is
sanctioned by the governor, he will soon resume it. If, on the
contrary, it is a prisoner, the noise I make will alarm him, he
will cease, and not begin again until he thinks every one is
asleep."
Edmond rose again, but this time his legs did not tremble, and
his sight was clear; he went to a corner of his dungeon, detached a
stone, and with it knocked against the wall where the sound came.