This note was in a different hand from the rest, which
showed that it had been added since his confinement. The
inspector could not contend against this accusation; he
simply wrote, -- "Nothing to be done."

This visit had infused new vigor into Dantes; he had, till
then, forgotten the date; but now, with a fragment of
plaster, he wrote the date, 30th July, 1816, and made a mark
every day, in order not to lose his reckoning again. Days
and weeks passed away, then months -- Dantes still waited;
he at first expected to be freed in a fortnight. This
fortnight expired, he decided that the inspector would do
nothing until his return to Paris, and that he would not
reach there until his circuit was finished, he therefore
fixed three months; three months passed away, then six more.
Finally ten months and a half had gone by and no favorable
change had taken place, and Dantes began to fancy the
inspector's visit but a dream, an illusion of the brain.

At the expiration of a year the governor was transferred; he
had obtained charge of the fortress at Ham. He took with him
several of his subordinates, and amongst them Dantes'
jailer. A new governor arrived; it would have been too
tedious to acquire the names of the prisoners; he learned
their numbers instead. This horrible place contained fifty
cells; their inhabitants were designated by the numbers of
their cell, and the unhappy young man was no longer called
Edmond Dantes -- he was now number 34.



Chapter 15
Number 34 and Number 27.

Dantes passed through all the stages of torture natural to
prisoners in suspense. He was sustained at first by that
pride of conscious innocence which is the sequence to hope;
then he began to doubt his own innocence, which justified in
some measure the governor's belief in his mental alienation;
and then, relaxing his sentiment of pride, he addressed his
supplications, not to God, but to man. God is always the
last resource. Unfortunates, who ought to begin with God, do
not have any hope in him till they have exhausted all other
means of deliverance.

Dantes asked to be removed from his present dungeon into
another; for a change, however disadvantageous, was still a
change, and would afford him some amusement. He entreated to
be allowed to walk about, to have fresh air, books, and
writing materials. His requests were not granted, but he
went on asking all the same. He accustomed himself to
speaking to the new jailer, although the latter was, if
possible, more taciturn than the old one; but still, to
speak to a man, even though mute, was something. Dantes
spoke for the sake of hearing his own voice; he had tried to
speak when alone, but the sound of his voice terrified him.
Often, before his captivity, Dantes' mind had revolted at
the idea of assemblages of prisoners, made up of thieves,
vagabonds, and murderers. He now wished to be amongst them,
in order to see some other face besides that of his jailer;
he sighed for the galleys, with the infamous costume, the
chain, and the brand on the shoulder. The galley-slaves
breathed the fresh air of heaven, and saw each other. They
were very happy. He besought the jailer one day to let him
have a companion, were it even the mad abbe.

The jailer, though rough and hardened by the constant sight
of so much suffering, was yet a man. At the bottom of his
heart he had often had a feeling of pity for this unhappy
young man who suffered so; and he laid the request of number
34 before the governor; but the latter sapiently imagined
that Dantes wished to conspire or attempt an escape, and
refused his request. Dantes had exhausted all human
resources, and he then turned to God.

All the pious ideas that had been so long forgotten,
returned; he recollected the prayers his mother had taught
him, and discovered a new meaning in every word; for in
prosperity prayers seem but a mere medley of words, until
misfortune comes and the unhappy sufferer first understands
the meaning of the sublime language in which he invokes the
pity of heaven! He prayed, and prayed aloud, no longer
terrified at the sound of his own voice, for he fell into a
sort of ecstasy. He laid every action of his life before the
Almighty, proposed tasks to accomplish, and at the end of
every prayer introduced the entreaty oftener addressed to
man than to God: "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive
them that trespass against us." Yet in spite of his earnest
prayers, Dantes remained a prisoner.

Then gloom settled heavily upon him. Dantes was a man of
great simplicity of thought, and without education; he could
not, therefore, in the solitude of his dungeon, traverse in
mental vision the history of the ages, bring to life the
nations that had perished, and rebuild the ancient cities so
vast and stupendous in the light of the imagination, and
that pass before the eye glowing with celestial colors in
Martin's Babylonian pictures. He could not do this, he whose
past life was so short, whose present so melancholy, and his
future so doubtful. Nineteen years of light to reflect upon


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