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. Certain Dantes could not
escape, the gendarmes released him. They seemed awaiting
orders. The orders came.

"Where is the prisoner?" said a voice.

"Here," replied the gendarmes.

"Let him follow me; I will take him to his cell."

"Go!" said the gendarmes, thrusting Dantes forward.

The prisoner followed his guide, 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 Dantes the
features of his conductor, an under-jailer, ill-clothed, and
of sullen appearance.

"Here is your chamber for to-night," said he. "It is late,
and the governor is asleep. To-morrow, perhaps, he may
change you. In the meantime there is bread, water, and fresh
straw; and that is all a prisoner can wish for. Goodnight."
And before Dantes could open his mouth -- before he had
noticed where the jailer placed his bread or the water --
before he had glanced towards the corner where the straw
was, the jailer disappeared, taking with him the lamp and
closing the door, leaving stamped upon the prisoner's mind
the dim reflection of the dripping walls of his dungeon.

Dantes 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 jailer returned, with orders to
leave Dantes 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
jailer advanced; Dantes appeared not to perceive him. He
touched him on the shoulder. Edmond started.

"Have you not slept?" said the jailer.

"I do not know," replied Dantes. The jailer stared.

"Are you hungry?" continued he.

"I do not know."

"Do you wish for anything?"

"I wish to see the governor." The jailer shrugged his
shoulders and left the chamber.

Dantes 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 Mercedes
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 been free, and happy with Mercedes and his
father, whereas he was now confined in the Chateau d'If,
that impregnable fortress, ignorant of the future destiny of
his father and Mercedes; and all this because he had trusted
to Villefort's promise. The thought was maddening, and
Dantes threw himself furiously down on his straw. The next
morning at the same hour, the jailer came again.

"Well," said the jailer, "are you more reasonable to-day?"
Dantes made no reply.

"Come, cheer up; is there anything that I can do for you?"

"I wish to see the governor."

"I have already told you it was impossible."

"Why so?"

"Because it is against prison rules, and prisoners must not
even ask for it."

"What is allowed, then?"

"Better fare, if you pay for it, books, and leave to walk


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