The Count of Monte Cristo. Alexandre Dumas

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СКАЧАТЬ of him the black and frowning rock on which stands the Château d’If. This gloomy fortress, which has for more than three hundred years furnished food for so many wild legends, seemed to Dantès like a scaffold to a malefactor.

      “The Château d’If!” cried he; “what are we going there for?”

      The gendarme smiled.

      “I am not going there to be imprisoned,” said Dantès; “it is only used for political prisoners. I have committed no crime. Are there any magistrates or judges at the Château d’If?”

      “There are only,” said the gendarme, “a governor, a garrison, turnkeys, and good thick walls. Come, come, do not look so astonished, or you will make me think you are laughing at me in return for my good nature.”

      Dantès pressed the gendarme’s hand as though he would crush it.

      “You think, then,” said he, “that I am conducted to the Château to be imprisoned there?”

      “It is probable; but there is no occasion to squeeze so hard.”

      “Without any formality.”

      “All the formalities have been gone through.”

      “In spite of M. de Villefort’s promises?”

      “I do not know what M. de Villefort promised you,” said the gendarme, “but I know we are taking you to the Château d’If. But what are you doing? Help! comrades, help!”

      By a rapid movement, which the gendarme’s practised eye had perceived, Dantès sprang forward to precipitate himself into the sea, but four vigorous arms seized him as his feet quitted the flooring of the boat. He fell back foaming with rage.

      “Good!” said the gendarme, placing his knee on his chest; “believe soft-spoken gentlemen again! Harkye, my friend, I have disobeyed my first order, but I will not disobey the second, and if you move I lodge a bullet in your brain.”

      And he levelled his carbine at Dantès, who felt the muzzle touch his head.

      For a moment the idea of struggling crossed his mind, and so end the unexpected evil that had overtaken him. But he bethought him of M. de Villefort’s promise; and, besides, death in a boat from the hand of a gendarme seemed too terrible. He remained motionless, but gnashing his teeth with fury.

      At this moment a violent shock made the bark tremble. One of the sailors leaped on shore, a cord creaked as it ran through a pulley, and Dantès guessed they were at the end of the voyage.

      His guardians, taking hold of his arms, forced him to rise, and dragged him towards the steps that lead to the gate of the fortress, while the exempt followed, armed with a carbine and bayonet.

      Dantès made no resistance, he was like a man in a dream, he saw soldiers who stationed themselves on the sides, he felt himself forced up fresh stairs, he perceived he passed through a door, and the door closed behind him; but all this as mechanically as through a mist, nothing distinctly.

      They halted for a minute, during which he strove to collect his thoughts; he looked around; he was in a court surrounded by high walls; he heard the measured tread of sentinels, and as they passed before the light he saw the barrels of their muskets shine.

      They waited upwards of ten minutes. Captain Dantès could not escape, the gendarmes released him; they seemed awaiting orders. The orders arrived.

      “Where is the prisoner?” said a voice.

      “Here,” replied the gendarmes.

      “Let him follow me; I am going to conduct him to his room.”

      “Go!” said the gendarmes, pushing Dantès.

      The prisoner followed his conductor, who led him into a room almost under ground, whose bare and reeking walls seemed as though impregnated with tears; a lamp placed on a stool illumined the apartment faintly, and showed Dantès the features of his conductor; an under-gaoler, ill-clothed, and of sullen appearance.

      “Here is your chamber for tonight,” said he. “It is late, and Monsieur le Gouverneur is asleep; tomorrow, perhaps, he may change you. In the meantime there is bread, water, and fresh straw, and that is all a prisoner can wish for. Good night!”

      And before Dantès could open his mouth,—before he had noticed where the gaoler placed his bread or the water,—before he had glanced towards the corner where the straw was, the gaoler disappeared, taking with him the lamp.

      Dantès was alone in darkness and in silence: cold as the shadows that he felt breathe on his burning forehead.

      With the first dawn of day the gaoler returned, with orders to leave Dantès where he was. He found the prisoner in the same position, as if fixed there,—his eyes swollen with weeping.

      He had passed the night standing and without sleep.

      The gaoler advanced; Dantès appeared not to perceive him.

      He touched him on the shoulder: Edmond started.

      “Have you not slept?” said the gaoler.

      “I do not know,” replied Dantès.

      The gaoler stared.

      “Are you hungry?” continued he.

      “I do not know.”

      “Do you wish for anything?”

      “I wish to see the governor.”

      The gaoler shrugged his shoulders and left the chamber.

      Dantès followed him with his eyes, and stretched forth his hands towards the open door; but the door closed.

      All his emotion then burst forth; he cast himself on the ground, weeping bitterly, and asking himself what crime he had committed that he was thus punished.

      The day passed thus; he scarcely tasted food, but walked round and round the cell like a wild beast in its cage.

      One thought in particular tormented him, namely, that during his journey hither he had sat so still, whereas he might, a dozen times, have plunged into the sea, and, thanks to his powers of swimming, for which he was famous, have gained the shore, concealed himself until the arrival of a Genoese or Spanish vessel; escaped to Spain or Italy, where Mercédès and his father could have joined him. He had no fears as to how he should live; good seamen are welcome everywhere; he spoke Italian like a Tuscan, and Spanish like a Castilian; he would have then been happy, whereas he was now confined in the Château d’If, ignorant of the future destiny of his father and Mercédès; and all this because he had trusted to Villefort’s promise. The thought was maddening, and Dantès threw himself furiously down on his straw.

      The next morning the gaoler made his appearance.

      “Well,” said the gaoler, “are you more reasonable today?”

      Dantès made no reply.

      “Come, take courage, do you want anything in my power to do for you?”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ