015 - The Count of Monte Cristo - Number 34 and Number 27

Episode Transcript

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Chapter fifteen of the Count of MonteCristo by Alexandre Duma. This LibriVox recording
is in the public domain. Chapterfifteen, number thirty four and number twenty
seven. Dante passed through all thestages of torture natural to prisoners in suspense.

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He was sustained at first by thatpride of conscious innocence, which is
the sequence to hope. Then hebegan to doubt his own innocence, which
justified in some measure the governor's beliefin his mental alienation. And then,
relaxing his sentiment of pride, headdressed his supplications not to God but to
man. God is always the lastresource. Unfortunates who ought to begin with

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God do not have any hope inhim till they have exhausted all other means
of deliverance. Dantes asked to beremoved from his present dungeon into another for
a change. However, disadvantageous,was still a change and would afford him
some amusement. He entreated to beallowed to walk about, to have fresh
air, books, and writing materials. His requests were not granted, but

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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 speakto a man, even though mute was
something, Dantes spoke for the sakeof hearing his own voice. He had
tried to speak when alone, butthe sound of his voice terrified him.

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Often before his captivity, dantes mindhad revolted at the idea of assemblages of
prisoners made up of thieves, vagabonds, and murderers. He now wished to
be amongst them, in order tosee some other faces besides that of his
jailer. He sighed for the galleyswith the infamous costume, the chain and
the brand on the shoulder. Thegalley slaves breathed the fresh air of heaven

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and saw each other. They werevery happy. He besought the jailer one
day to let him have a companion, were it even the mad abbe.
The jailer, though rough and hardenedby the constant sight of so much suffering,
was yet a man at the bottomof his heart. He had often
had a feeling of pity for thisunhappy young man who suffered so and he

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laid the request of number thirty fourbefore the governor. But the latter sapently
imagined that Dantes wished to conspire orattempt an escape, and refused his request.
Dantes had exhausted all human resources,and he then turned to God.
All the pious ideas that had beenso long forgotten returned. He recollected the

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prayers his mother had taught him,and discovered a new meaning in every word.
For in prosperity, prayers seen buta mere medley of words. Until
misfortune comes and the unhappy sufferer firstunderstands 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 hisown voice, for he fell into a

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sort of ecstasy. He laid everyaction of his life before the Almighty,
proposed tasks to accomplish, and atthe end of every prayer introduced the entreaty
oftener addressed to man than to God, forgive us are trespasses, as we
forgive them that trespass against us.Yet, in spite of his earnest prayers,

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Dante remained a prisoner. Then gloomsettled heavily upon him. Dante was
a man of great simplicity of thought, and without education. He could not,
therefore, in the solitude of hisdungeon, traverse in mental vision the
history of the ages, bring tolife and nations that had perished, and

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rebuild the ancient cities so vast andstupendous in the light of the imagination,
and that passed before the eye glowingwith celestia colours in Martin's Babylonian pictures.
He could not do this, hewhose past life was so short, whose
presence so melancholy, and his futureso doubtful, nineteen years of light to

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reflect upon in eternal darkness, nodistraction could come to his aid. His
energetic spirit, that would have exaltedin thus revisiting the past, was imprisoned
like an eagle in a cage.He clung to one idea, that of
his happiness destroyed without apparent cause byan unheard of fatality. He considered and

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reconsidered this idea, devoured it,so to speak, as the implacable Udrolino
devours the skull of Archbishop Roger.In the inferno of Dante, rage supplanted
religious fervor, Dante uttered blasphemies thatmade his jailer recoil with horror, dashed
himself furiously against the walls of hisprison, wreaked his anger upon everything,

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and chiefly upon himself, so thatthe least thing, a grain of sand,
a straw, or a breath ofair that annoyed him led to paroxysms
of fury. Then the letter thatVillefort had showed to him recurred to his
mind, and every line gleamed forthin fiery letters on the wall, like

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the mene take a passing of Belshazzar. He told himself that it was the
enmity of man, and not thevengeance of Heaven, that had thus plunged
him into the deepest misery. Heconsigned his unknown persecutors to the most horrible
tortures he could imagine, and foundthem all insufficient, because after torture came
death, and after death, ifnot to repose at least the boon of

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unconsciousness, by dint of constantly dwellingon the idea that tranquility was death,
and if punishment were the end inview, other tortures than death must be
invented. He began to reflect onsuicide. Unhappy, he who on the
brink of misfortune broods over ideas likethese. Before him is a dead sea

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that stretches in asure, calm beforethe eye. But he who unwarily ventures
within its embrace finds himself struggling witha monster that would drag him down to
perdition. Once thus ensnared, unlessthe protecting hand of God snatch him,
thence all is over, and hisstruggles but tend to hasten his destruction.

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This state of mental anguish is,however, less terrible than the sufferings that
proceed or the punishment that possibly willfollow. There is a sort of consolation
at the contemplation of the yawning abyss, at the bottom of which lie darkness
and obscurity. Edmond found some solacein these ideas. All his sorrows,

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all his sufferings, with their trainof gloomy specters, fled from his cell
when the angel of death seemed aboutto enter. Dantes reviewed his past life
with composure, and, looking forwardwith terror to his future existence, chose
that middle line that seemed to affordhim a refuge. Sometimes, said he,

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in my voyage, when I wasa man and commanded other men,
I have seen the heavans overcast thesea rage and foam, the storm arise,
and like a monstrous bird, beatingthe two horizons with its wings.
Then I felt that my vessel wasa vain refuge that trembled and shook before

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the tempest. Soon, the furyof the waves and the sight of the
sharp rocks announced the brooch of mydeath. And death then terrified me,
and I used all my skill andintelligence as a man and the sailor to
struggle against the wrath of God.But I did so because I was happy,
because I had not caught it death, because to be cast upon a

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bed of rocks and seaweed seemed terrible. Because I was unwilling that I,
a creature made for the service ofGod, should serve for food to the
gulls and ravens. But now itis different. I have lost all that
bound me to life. Death smilesand invites me to repose. I die

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after my own manner. I dieexhausted and broken, spirited as I fall
asleep, when I have paced threethousand times round my cell. No sooner
had this idea taken possession of himthan it became more composed, arranged his
couch to the best of his power. Ate little and slept less, and

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found existence almost supportable because he feltthat he could throw it off at pleasure,
like a worn out garment. Twomethods of self destruction were at his
disposal. He could hang himself withhis handkerchief to the window bars, or
refuse food and die of starvation.But the first was repugnant to him.

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Dantes had always entertained the greatest horrorof pirates who were hung up to the
yard arm. He would not dieby what seemed an infamous death. He
resolved to adopt the second, andbegan that day to carry out his resolve.
Nearly four years had passed away.At the end of the second he

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had ceased to mark the lapse oftime. Dantes said, I wish to
die, and had chosen the mannerof his death, and, fearful of
changing his mind, he had takenan oath to die. When my morning
and evening meals abought, thought he, I will cast them out of the

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window, and they would think thatI have eaten them. He kept his
word. Twice a day he castout through the barred aperture. The provisions
his jailer brought him, at firstgaily, then with deliberation and at last
with regret. Nothing but the recollectionof his oath gave him strength to proceed.

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Hunger made vience, once repugnant,now acceptable. He held a plate
in his hand for an hour ata time and gazed thoughtfully at the morsel
of bad meat, of tainted fish, of black and moldy bread. It
was the last yearning for life,contending with the resolution of despair. Then
his dungeon seemed less somber, hisprospects less desperate. He was still young.

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He was only four or five andtwenty. He had nearly fifty years
to live. What unforeseen events mightnot open his prison door and restore him
to liberty. Then he raised tohis lips the repast that, like a
voluntary tantalus, he refused himself.But he thought of his oath, and

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he would not break it. Hepersisted until at last he had not sufficient
strength to rise and cast his supperout of the loophole. The next morning,
he could not see or hear.The jailer feared he was dangerously ill.
Edmond hoped he was dying. Thusthe day passed away. Edmund felt

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a sort of stupor creeping over him, which brought with it a feeling almost
of content the gnawing pain, ashis stomach had ceased, his thirst had
abated. When he closed his eyes, he saw myriads of lights dancing before
them, like the will o thewisps that play about the marshes. It
was the twilight of that mysterious countrycalled death. Suddenly, about nine o'clock

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in the evening, Edmond heard ahollow sound in the wall against which he
was lying. So many loathsome animalsinhabited the prison that their noise did not
in general wake him. But whetherabstinence had quickened his faculties, or whether
the noise was really louder than usual, ed Yone raised his head and listened.
It was a continual scratching, asif made by a huge claw,

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a powerful tooth, or some ironinstrument attacking the stones. Although weakened,
the young man's brain instantly responded tothe idea that haunts all prisoners liberty.
It seemed to him that Heaven hadat length taken pity on him, and
had sent this noise to warn himon the very brink of the abyss.

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Perhaps one of those beloved ones hehad so often thought of was thinking of
him and striving to diminish the distancethat separated them. No doubtless, he
was deceived, and it was butone of those dreams that forerun death.
Edmond still heard the sound. Itlasted nearly three hours. He then heard

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a noise of something falling, andall was silent. Some hours afterwards,
it began again, nearer and moredistinct. Edmond was intensely interested. Suddenly
the jailer entered for a week,since he had resolved to die, and
during the four days that he hadbeen carrying out his purpose, Edmond had

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not spoken to the attendant, hadnot answered him when he inquired what was
the matter with him, and turnedhis face to the wall when he looked
too curiously at him. But nowthe jailer might hear the noise and put
an end to it, and sodestroy a ray of something like hope that
soothed his last moments. The jailerbrought him his breakfast. Dantes raised himself

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up and began to talk about everything, about the bad quality of the food,
about the coldness of his dungeon,grumbling and complaining in order to have
an excuse for speaking louder and wearyingthe patience of his jailer, who,
out of kindness of heart, hadbrought broth and white bread for his prisoner.
Fortunately, he fancied that Dantes wasdelirious, and placing the food on

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the rickety table, and withdrew.Edmond listened, and the sound became more
and more distinct. There can beno doubt about it, thought he.
It is some prisoner who is strivingto obtain his freedom. Oh, if
I only were there to help him. Suddenly, another idea took possession of
his mind, so used to misfortunethat it was scarcely capable of hope.

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The idea that the noise was madeby workmen the governor had ordered to repair
the neighboring dungeon. It was easyto ascertain this, but how could he
risk the question? It was easyto call his jailer's attention to the noise,
and watch his countenance as he listened. But might he not by this
means destroy hopes far more important thanthe short lived satisfaction of his own curiosity.

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Unfortunately, Edmond's brain was still sofeeble that he could not bend his
thoughts to anything. In particular.He saw but one means of restoring lucidity
and clearness to his judgment. Heturned his eyes towards the soup which the
jailer had brought. Rose staggered towardsit, raised the vessel to his lips,

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and drank off the contents with afeeling of indescribable pleasure. He had
often heard that shipwrecked persons had diedthrough having eagerly devoured too much food.
Edmond replaced on the table the breadhe was about to devour and returned to
his couch. He did not wishto die. He soon felt that his

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ideas became again collected. He couldthink and strengthen his thoughts by reasoning.
Then he said to himself, Imust put this to the test, but
without compromising anybody. If he isa workman, I need but knock against
the wall, and he would ceaseto work in order to find out who
is knocking and why he does so. But as his occupation is sanctioned by

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the governor, he would soon resumeit. On the contrary, it is
a prisoner, the noise I willmake will alarm him. He will cease
and not begin again until he thinkseveryone is asleep. Edmond rose again,
but this time his legs did nottremble, and his sight was clear.
He went to a corner of hisdungeon, detached a stone, and with

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it knocked against the wall where thesound came. He struck thrice. At
the first blow. The sound ceased, as if by magic. Edmond listened
intently. An hour passed. Twohours passed, and no sound was heard
from the wall. All was silentthere. Full of hope, Edmond swallowed

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a few mouthfuls of bread and water, and thanks to the vigor of his
constitution, found himself well nigh recovered. The day passed away in utter silence.
Night came without recurrence of the noise. It is a prisoner, said
Edmond joyfully. The night passed inperfect silence. Edmond did not close his

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eyes. In the morning, thejailer brought him fresh provisions. He had
already devoured those of the previous day. He ate these, listening anxiously for
the sound, walking round and roundhis cell, shaking the iron bars of
the loophole, restoring vigor and agilityto his limbs by exercise, and so
preparing himself for his future destiny.At intervals, he listened to learn if

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the noise had not begun again,and grew impatient at the prudence of the
prisoner, who did not guess hehad been disturbed by a captive as anxious
for liberty as himself. Three dayspassed, seventy two long, tedious hours,
which he counted off by minutes atlength. One evening, as the

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jailer was visiting him for the lasttime. That night, Dante, with
his ear for the hundredth time atthe wall, fancied he heard an almost
imperceptible movement among the stones. Hemoved away, walked up and down his
cell to collect his thoughts, andthen went back and listened. The matter
was no longer doubtful. Something wasat work on the other side of the

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wall. The prisoner had discovered thedanger and had substituted a lever for a
chisel. Encouraged by this discovery,Edmond determined to assist the indefatigable laborer.
He began by moving his bed andlooking around for anything with which he could
pierce the wall, penetrate the moistcement, and displace a stone. He

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saw nothing. He had no knifeor sharp instrument. The window grating was
of iron, but he had toooften assured himself of its solidity. All
his furniture consisted of a bed,a chair, a table, a pail,
and a jug. The bed hadiron clamps, but there were screwed
to the wood, and it wouldhave required a screwdriver to take them off.
The table and chair had nothing.The pail had once possessed a handle,

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but that that had been removed.Dantes had but one resource, which
was to break the jug, andwith one of the sharp fragments attack the
wall. He let the jug fallon the floor, and it broke in
pieces. Dantes concealed two or threeof the sharpest fragments in his bed,
leaving the rest on the floor.The breaking of his jug was too natural

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an accident to excite suspicion. Edmondhad all the night to work in but
in the darkness he could not domuch, and he soon felt that he
was working against something very hard.He pushed back his bed and waited for
day. All night he heard thesubterranean workman, who continued to mine his

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way. Day came, the jailerentered. Dantes told him that the jug
had fallen from his hands while hewas drinking, and the jailer went grumblingly
to fetch another one. Without givinghimself the trouble to remove the fragments of
the broken one. He returned speedily, advised the prisoner to be more careful,
and arted. Dantes heard joyfully thekey grate in the lock. He

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listened until the sound of steps diedaway, and then, hastily displacing his
bed, saw by the faint lightthat penetrated into his cell, that he
had labored uselessly the previous evening inattacking the stone, instead of removing the
plaster that surrounded it. The damphad rendered it friable, and Dantes was

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able to break it off in smallmorsels. It is true, but at
the end of half an hour hehad scraped off a handful. A mathematician
might have calculated that in two years, supposing that the rock was not encountered,
a passage twenty feet long and twofeet broad, might be formed.
The prisoner reproached himself with not havingthus employed the hours he had passed in

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vain hopes, prayer and despondency duringthe six years that he had been imprisoned,
What might he not have accomplished inthree days? Seeded with the utmost
precaution in removing the cement and exposingthe stone work. The wall was built
of rough stones, among which,to give strength to the structure, blocks

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of hewn stone were at intervals embedded. It was one of these he had
uncovered, and which he must removefrom its socket. Dantes strove to do
this with his nails, but theywere too weak. The fragments of the
jug broke, and after an hourof useless toil he paused. Was he
to be thus stopped at the beginning? And was he to wait inactive until

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his fellow workmen had completed his task. Suddenly an idea occurred to him.
He smiled, and the perspiration driedon his forehead. The jailer always brought
Dantes soup in an iron saucepan.This saucepan contained soup for both prisoners,
for Dante had noticed that it waseither quite full or half empty, according

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as the turnkey gave it to himor to his companion. In first,
the handle of this saucepan was Avian. Dantes would have given ten years of
his life in exchange for it.The jailer was accustomed to pour the contents
of the saucepan into Dantes's plate,and Dantes after eating his soup with a
wooden spoon, washed the plate,which thus served for every day. Now

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an evening came, Dantes put hisplate on the ground near the door.
The jailer, as he entered,stepped on it and broke it. This
time he could not blame Dantes.He was wrong to leave it there,
but the jailer was wrong not tohave looked before him. The jailer therefore
only grumbled when he looked about forsomething to pour the soup into. Dantes

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entire dinner service consisted of one plate. There was no alternative. Leave the
saucepan, said Dantes, you cantake it away when you bring my breakfast.
This advice was to the jailer's taste, as it spared him the necessity
of making another trip. He leftthe saucepan. Dantes was beside himself with

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joy. He rapidly devoured his food, and, after waiting an hour lest
the jailer should change his mind andreturn, he removed his bed, took
the handle of the saucepan, insertedthe point between the hewn stone and rough
stones of the wall, and employedit as a lever. A slight oscillation
showed Dante that all went well.At the end of an hour, the

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stone was extricated from the wall,leaving a cavity a foot and a half
in diameter. Dantes carefully collected theplaster, carried it into the corner of
his cell, and covered it withearth. Then, wishing to make the
best use of his time while hehad the means of labor, he continued
to work without ceasing. At thedawn of day, he replaced the stone,

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pushed his bed against the wall,and lay down. The breakfast consisted
of a piece of bread. Thejailer entered and placed the bread on the
table. Well, don't you intendto bring me another plate, said Dantes,
No, replied the turnkey. Youdestroy everything. First, you break

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your jug, then you make mebreak your plate. If all the prisoners
followed your example, the government wouldbe ruined. I shall leave you the
saucepan and pour your soup into that, so for the future I hope you
will not be so destructive. Dantesraised his eyes to heaven and clasped his

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hands beneath the coverlet. He feltmore gratitude for the possession of his piece
of iron than he had ever feltfor anything. He'd noticed, however,
that the prisoner on the other sidehad ceased to labor. No matter,
this was a greater reason for proceeding. If his neighbor would not come to
him, he would go to hisneighbor. All day he toiled on untiringly,

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and by the evening he had succeededin extracting ten handfuls of plaster and
fragments of stone. When the hourfor his jailer's visit arrived, Dantes straightened
the handle of the saucepan as wellas he could and placed it in its
accustomed place. The turnkey poured hisration of soup into it, together with
the fish. For thrice a week, the prisoners were deprived of meat.

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This would have been a method ofreckoning time, had not Dante long ceased
to do so. Having poured outthe soup, the turnkey retired. Dantes
wished to ascertain whether his neighbor hadreally ceased to work. He listened.
All was silent, as it hadbeen for the last three days. Dantes
sighed it was evident that his neighbordistrusted him. However, he toiled on

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all the night without being discouraged.But after two or three hours he encountered
an obstacle. The iron made noimpression, but met with a smooth surface.
Dantes touched it and found that itwas a beam. This beam crossed,
or rather blocked up the whole Dantehad made. It was necessary therefore
to dig above or under it.The unhappy young man had not thought of

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this. Ah, my God,my God, murmured, He I have
so earnestly prayed to you that Ihoped my prayers had been heard. After
having deprived me of my liberty,after having deprived me of death, after
having regarded me to existence, myGod, have pity on me, and
do not let me die in despair? Who talks of God and despair?

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At the same time, said avoice 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 onend, and he rose to his knees.
Ah said he, I hear ourhuman vice. Edmond had not heard

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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 or a
barrier of flesh and blood, addingstrength to the restraints of oak and iron.
In the name of Heaven, criedDantes. Speak again, though the
sound of your voice terrifies me.Who are you? Who are you?

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Said the voice? An unhappy prisoner, replied Dantes, who made no hesitation
in answering of what a country AFrenchman? Your name, Edmond Dantes,
your profession a sailor? How longhave you been here since the twenty eighth

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of February eighteen fifteen? Your crime? I am innocent. But of what
are you accused of? Having conspiredto aid the Emperor's return? What for
the emperor's return? The Emperor isno longer on the throne, then,
he abdicated at Fontainebleau in eighteen fourteenand was sent to the island of Elba.

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But how long have you been herethat you are ignorant of all this?
Since eighteen eleven? Dantes shuddered.This man had been four years longer
than himself in prison. Do notdig any more, said the voice,
Only tell me how high it isyour excavation on a level with the floor.

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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 acourt. Alas murmured a voice. Oh

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what is the matter, cried Dantes. I have made a mistake, owing
to an error in my plans.I took at the wrong angle and have
come all fifteen feet from where Iintended. I took the wall you are
mining for the outer wall of thefortress. But then you would be close
to the sea. That is whatI hoped, And supposing you had succeeded,

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I should have thrown myself into thesea, gained one of the islands
near here, the il Do domeof the ild Tiboulon, and then I
should have been safe. Could youhave swum so far? Heaven would have
given me strength. But now allis lost. All yes, stop up

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your excavation carefully, do not workany more, and wait until you hear
from me. Tell me at leastwho you are. I am. I
am a number twenty seven. Youmistrust me, then, said Dantes.
Edmond fancied he heard a bitter laughresounding from the depths. Oh I am

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a Christian, cried Dantes, guessinginstinctively that this man meant to abandon him.
I swear to you Baimu died forus. That naught shall induce me
to breathe one syllable to my jalous. But I conjure you do not abandon
me. If you do, Iswear to you, for I have got
to the end of my strength thatI will dash my brains out against the

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wall, and you will have mydeath to reproach yourself with. How old
are you? Your voice is thatof a young man. I do not
know my age, for I havenot counted the years I have been here.
All I do know is that Iwas just nineteen when I was arrested
the twenty eighth of February eighteen fifteen, not quite twenty six, murmured the

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voice. At that age, hecannot be a traitor. Oh no,
no, cried Dantes. I swearto you again. Rather than betray you,
I would allow myself to be actingpieces. You have done well to
speak to me and ask for myassistance, for I was about to form

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another plan and leave you, Butyour ag reassures me I will not forget
you. Wait how long I mustcalculate our chances. I will give you
the signal, but you will notleave me. You will come to me
or you will let me come toyou. We will escape, and if

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we cannot escape, we will talk. You of those whom you love,
and I of those whom I love. You must love somebody. No I
am alone in the world. Thenyou will love me. If you are
young, I will be your comrade. If you are old, I will
be your son. I have afather who is seventy. If he yet

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lives, I only love him.And a young girl called Mercedes. My
father has not yet forgotten me.I am sure sure, but God alone
knows if she loves me still.I shall love you as I loved my
father. It is well returned thevoice tomorrow. These few words were uttered

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with an accent that left no doubtof his insincerity. Dantes Rose dispersed the
fragments with the same precaution as before, and pushed his bed back against the
wall. He then gave himself upto his happiness. He would no longer
be alone. He was perhaps aboutto regain his liberty. At the worst,

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he would have a companion. Andcaptivity that is shared is but half
captivity. Plaints made in common arealmost prayers. And prayers where two or
three are gathered together invoke the mercyof heaven. All day, Dantes walked
up and down his cell. Hesat down occasionally on his bed, pressing

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his hand on his heart. Atthe slight noise, he bounded towards the
door. Once or twice. Thethought crossed his mind that he might be
separated from this unknown whom he lovedalready. And then his mind was made
up. When the jailer moved hisbed and stooped to examine the opening,
he would kill him with his waterjug. He would be condemned to die.

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But he was about to die ofgrief and despair when this miraculous noise
recalled him to life. The jailercame in evening. Dantes was on his
bed. It seemed to him thatthus he better guarded the unfinished opening.
Doubtless, there was a strange expressionin his eyes, for the jailer said,

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come, are you going mad again? Dantes did not answer. He
feared that the emotion of his voicewould betray him. The jailer went away,
shaking his head. Night came.Dantes hoped that his neighbor would profit
by the silence to address him,but he was mistaken. The Next morning,
however, just as he removed hisbed from the wall. He heard

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three knocks. He threw himself onhis knees. Is it you, said
he I am, Here is yourjail agone. Yes, said Dantes.
You will not return until the evening, so that we have twelve hours before
us I can work. Then saidthe voice, Oh, yes, yes,

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this is instant. I entreat you. In a moment, that part
of the floor on which Dantes wasresting his hands as he knelt with his
head in the opening, suddenly gaveway. He drew back smartly, while
a mass of stones and earth disappearedin a hole that opened beneath the aperture
he himself had formed. Then,from the bottom of this passage, the

(34:52):
depth of which it was impossible tomeasure, he saw a peer, first
the head, then the shoulders,and lastly the body of a man who
sprang lightly into his cell. Endof Chapter fifteen.