made; it was necessary, therefore, to dig above or under it.
The unhappy young man had not thought of this. "O my God, my
God!" murmured he, "I have so earnestly prayed to you, that
I hoped my prayers had been heard. After having deprived me
of my liberty, after having deprived me of death, after
having recalled me to existence, my God, have pity on me,
and do not let me die in despair!"

"Who talks of God and despair at the same time?" said a
voice that seemed to come from beneath the earth, and,
deadened by the distance, sounded hollow and sepulchral in
the young man's ears. Edmond's hair stood on end, and he
rose to his knees.

"Ah," said he, "I hear a human voice." Edmond had not heard
any one speak save his jailer for four or five years; and a
jailer is no man to a prisoner -- he is a living door, a
barrier of flesh and blood adding strength to restraints of
oak and iron.

"In the name of heaven," cried Dantes, "speak again, though
the sound of your voice terrifies me. Who are you?"

"Who are you?" said the voice.

"An unhappy prisoner," replied Dantes, who made no
hesitation in answering.

"Of what country?"

"A Frenchman."

"Your name?"

"Edmond Dantes."

"Your profession?"

"A sailor."

"How long have you been here?"

"Since the 28th of February, 1815."

"Your crime?"

"I am innocent."

"But of what are you accused?"

"Of having conspired to aid the emperor's return."

"What! For the emperor's return? -- the emperor is no longer
on the throne, then?"

"He abdicated at Fontainebleau in 1814, and was sent to the
Island of Elba. But how long have you been here that you are
ignorant of all this?"

"Since 1811."

Dantes shuddered; this man had been four years longer than
himself in prison.

"Do not dig any more," said the voice; "only tell me how
high up is your excavation?"

"On a level with the floor."

"How is it concealed?"

"Behind my bed."

"Has your bed been moved since you have been a prisoner?"

"No."

"What does your chamber open on?"

"A corridor."

"And the corridor?"

"On a court."

"Alas!" murmured the voice.

"Oh, what is the matter?" cried Dantes.

"I have made a mistake owing to an error in my plans. I took
the wrong angle, and have come out fifteen feet from where I
intended. I took the wall you are mining for the outer wall
of the fortress."

"But then you would be close to the sea?"

"That is what I hoped."

"And supposing you had succeeded?"



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