The Count of Monte Cristo. Alexandre Dumas

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СКАЧАТЬ at last, he had not sufficient force to cast his supper out of the loophole.

      The next morning he could not see or hear; the gaoler feared he was dangerously ill. Edmond hoped he was dying.

      The day passed away thus: Edmond felt a species of stupor creeping over him; 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 meteors 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 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 recurred 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 nearer and more distinct; Edmond became already interested in that labour, when the gaoler entered.

      For a week that he had resolved to die, and for four days that he put this resolution into execution, Edmond had not spoken to this man, 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 gaoler might hear this noise and put an end to it, thus destroying a ray of something like hope that soothed his last moments.

      The gaoler brought him his breakfast. Dantès raised himself up, and began to speak on everything; on the bad quality of his food, on the coldness of his dungeon, grumbling and complaining, in order to have an excuse for speaking louder, and wearying the patience of his gaoler, who had solicited some broth and white bread for his prisoner, and who had brought it.

      Fortunately he fancied Dantès was delirious; and placing his food on the rickety table, he withdrew.

      Edmond listened, and the sound became more and more distinct.

      There can be no doubt, thought he, it is some prisoner who is striving to obtain his freedom.

      Suddenly another idea took possession of his mind, so used to misfortune, that it could scarcely understand hope; yet this idea possessed him, that the noise arose from the workmen the governor had ordered to repair the neighbouring dungeon.

      It was easy to ascertain this; but how could he risk the question? It was easy to call his gaoler’s attention to the noise, and watch his countenance as he listened, but might he not by this means betray interests far more precious than this shortlived satisfaction? 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 his gaoler had brought him, 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 recommence until he thinks every one is asleep.”

      Edmond rose again, but this time his legs did not tremble, and his eyes were free from mists: he advanced to a corner of his dungeon, detached a stone, and with it knocked against the wall where the sound came. He struck thrice.

      At the first blow the sound ceased, as if by magic.

      Edmond listened intently; an hour passed, two hours passed, and no sound was heard from the wall; all was silent there.

      Full of hope, Edmond swallowed a few mouthfuls of bread and water, and, thanks to the excellence of his constitution, found himself well-nigh recovered.

      The day passed away in utter silence—night came without the noise having recommenced.

      “It is a prisoner,” said Edmond joyfully.

      The night passed in perfect silence. Edmond did not close his eyes.

      In the morning the gaoler brought him fresh provisions—he had already devoured those of the previous day; he ate these, listening anxiously for the sound, walking round and round his cell, shaking the iron bars of the loophole, restoring by exercise vigour and agility to his limbs, and preparing himself thus for his future destiny. At intervals he listened if the noise had not begun again, and grew impatient at the prudence of the prisoner, who did not guess he had been disturbed by a captive as anxious for liberty as himself.

      Three days passed—seventy-two long tedious hours!

      At length one evening, as the gaoler was visiting him for the last time that night, Dantès fancied he heard an almost imperceptible movement among the stones.

      Edmond recoiled from the wall, walked up and down his cell to collect his thoughts, and replaced his ear against the wall.

      There could be no doubt something was passing on the other side; the prisoner had discovered the danger, and had substituted the lever for the chisel.

      Encouraged by this discovery, Edmond determined to assist the indefatigable labourer; he began by moving his bed, and sought with his eyes for anything with which he could pierce the wall, penetrate the cement, and displace a stone.

      He saw nothing, he had no knife or sharp instrument, the grating of his window alone was of iron, and he had too often assured himself of its solidity. All his furniture consisted of a bed, a chair, a table, a pail, and a jug. The bed had iron clamps, but they were screwed to the wood, and it would have required a screw-driver to take them off. The table and chair had nothing, the pail had had a handle, but that had been removed.

      Dantès had but one resource, which was to break the jug, and with one of the sharp fragments attack the wall. He let the jug fall on the floor, and it broke in pieces.

      Dantès concealed two or three of the sharpest fragments in his bed, leaving the rest on the floor. The breaking of his jug was too natural an accident to excite suspicion; Edmond had all the night to work in, but in the darkness he could not do much, and he soon felt his instrument was blunted against something hard; he pushed back his bed and awaited the day.

      All night he heard the subterranean workman, who continued to mine his way. The day came, the gaoler entered. Dantès told him the jug had fallen from his hands in СКАЧАТЬ