Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.11-39
`
` In three days he had succeeded, with the utmost precaution, `
` in removing the cement, and exposing the stone-work. The `
` wall was built of rough stones, among which, to give `
` strength to the structure, blocks of hewn stone were at `
` intervals imbedded. It was one of these he had uncovered, `
` and which he must remove from its socket. `
` `
` Dantes strove to do this with his nails, but they were too `
` weak. The fragments of the jug broke, and after an hour of `
` useless toil, he paused. `
` `
` Was he to be thus stopped at the beginning, and was he to `
` wait inactive until his fellow workman had completed his `
` task? Suddenly an idea occurred to him -- he smiled, and the `
` perspiration dried on his forehead. `
` `
` The jailer always brought Dantes' soup in an iron saucepan; `
` this saucepan contained soup for both prisoners, for Dantes `
` had noticed that it was either quite full, or half empty, `
` according as the turnkey gave it to him or to his companion `
` first. `
` `
` The handle of this saucepan was of iron; 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' plate, and Dantes, after eating his `
` soup with a wooden spoon, washed the plate, which thus `
` served for every day. Now when evening came Dantes put his `
` plate 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 to have looked before `
` him. `
` `
` The jailer, therefore, only grumbled. Then he looked about `
` for something to pour the soup into; Dantes' entire dinner `
` service consisted of one plate -- there was no alternative. `
` `
` "Leave the saucepan," said Dantes; "you can take it away `
` when you bring me my breakfast." This advice was to the `
` jailer's taste, as it spared him the necessity of making `
` another trip. He left the saucepan. `
` `
` Dantes was beside himself with joy. He rapidly devoured his `
` food, and after waiting an hour, lest the jailer should `
` change his mind and return, he removed his bed, took the `
` handle of the saucepan, inserted the point between the hewn `
` stone and rough stones of the wall, and employed it as a `
` lever. A slight oscillation showed Dantes that all went `
` well. At the end of an hour the stone was extricated from `
` the wall, leaving a cavity a foot and a half in diameter. `
` `
` Dantes carefully collected the plaster, carried it into the `
` corner of his cell, and covered it with earth. Then, wishing `
` to make the best use of his time while he had the means of `
` labor, he continued to work without ceasing. At the dawn of `
` day he replaced the stone, pushed his bed against the wall, `
` and lay down. The breakfast consisted of a piece of bread; `
` the jailer entered and placed the bread on the table. `
` `
` "Well, don't you intend to bring me another plate?" said `
` Dantes. `
` `
` "No," replied the turnkey; "you destroy everything. First `
` you break your jug, then you make me break your plate; if `
` all the prisoners followed your example, the government `
` would be 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." `
` `
` Dantes raised his eyes to heaven and clasped his hands `
` beneath the coverlet. He felt more gratitude for the `
` possession of this piece of iron than he had ever felt for `
` anything. He had noticed, however, that the prisoner on the `
` other side had ceased to labor; no matter, this was a `
` greater reason for proceeding -- if his neighbor would not `
` come to him, he would go to his neighbor. All day he toiled `
` on untiringly, and by the evening he had succeeded in `
` extracting ten handfuls of plaster and fragments of stone. `
` When the hour for his jailer's visit arrived, Dantes `
` straightened the handle of the saucepan as well as he could, `
` and placed it in its accustomed place. The turnkey poured `
` his ration of soup into it, together with the fish -- for `
` thrice a week the prisoners were deprived of meat. This `
` would have been a method of reckoning time, had not Dantes `
` long ceased to do so. Having poured out the soup, the `
` turnkey retired. Dantes wished to ascertain whether his `
` neighbor had really ceased to work. He listened -- all was `
` silent, as it had been for the last three days. Dantes `
` sighed; it was evident that his neighbor distrusted him. `
` However, he toiled on all the night without being `
` discouraged; but after two or three hours he encountered an `
` obstacle. The iron made no impression, but met with a smooth `
` surface; Dantes touched it, and found that it was a beam. `
` This beam crossed, or rather blocked up, the hole Dantes had `
` 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?" `
` `
` "I should have thrown myself into the sea, gained one of the `
` islands near here -- the Isle de Daume or the Isle de `
` Tiboulen -- and then I should have been safe." `
`
` In three days he had succeeded, with the utmost precaution, `
` in removing the cement, and exposing the stone-work. The `
` wall was built of rough stones, among which, to give `
` strength to the structure, blocks of hewn stone were at `
` intervals imbedded. It was one of these he had uncovered, `
` and which he must remove from its socket. `
` `
` Dantes strove to do this with his nails, but they were too `
` weak. The fragments of the jug broke, and after an hour of `
` useless toil, he paused. `
` `
` Was he to be thus stopped at the beginning, and was he to `
` wait inactive until his fellow workman had completed his `
` task? Suddenly an idea occurred to him -- he smiled, and the `
` perspiration dried on his forehead. `
` `
` The jailer always brought Dantes' soup in an iron saucepan; `
` this saucepan contained soup for both prisoners, for Dantes `
` had noticed that it was either quite full, or half empty, `
` according as the turnkey gave it to him or to his companion `
` first. `
` `
` The handle of this saucepan was of iron; 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' plate, and Dantes, after eating his `
` soup with a wooden spoon, washed the plate, which thus `
` served for every day. Now when evening came Dantes put his `
` plate 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 to have looked before `
` him. `
` `
` The jailer, therefore, only grumbled. Then he looked about `
` for something to pour the soup into; Dantes' entire dinner `
` service consisted of one plate -- there was no alternative. `
` `
` "Leave the saucepan," said Dantes; "you can take it away `
` when you bring me my breakfast." This advice was to the `
` jailer's taste, as it spared him the necessity of making `
` another trip. He left the saucepan. `
` `
` Dantes was beside himself with joy. He rapidly devoured his `
` food, and after waiting an hour, lest the jailer should `
` change his mind and return, he removed his bed, took the `
` handle of the saucepan, inserted the point between the hewn `
` stone and rough stones of the wall, and employed it as a `
` lever. A slight oscillation showed Dantes that all went `
` well. At the end of an hour the stone was extricated from `
` the wall, leaving a cavity a foot and a half in diameter. `
` `
` Dantes carefully collected the plaster, carried it into the `
` corner of his cell, and covered it with earth. Then, wishing `
` to make the best use of his time while he had the means of `
` labor, he continued to work without ceasing. At the dawn of `
` day he replaced the stone, pushed his bed against the wall, `
` and lay down. The breakfast consisted of a piece of bread; `
` the jailer entered and placed the bread on the table. `
` `
` "Well, don't you intend to bring me another plate?" said `
` Dantes. `
` `
` "No," replied the turnkey; "you destroy everything. First `
` you break your jug, then you make me break your plate; if `
` all the prisoners followed your example, the government `
` would be 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." `
` `
` Dantes raised his eyes to heaven and clasped his hands `
` beneath the coverlet. He felt more gratitude for the `
` possession of this piece of iron than he had ever felt for `
` anything. He had noticed, however, that the prisoner on the `
` other side had ceased to labor; no matter, this was a `
` greater reason for proceeding -- if his neighbor would not `
` come to him, he would go to his neighbor. All day he toiled `
` on untiringly, and by the evening he had succeeded in `
` extracting ten handfuls of plaster and fragments of stone. `
` When the hour for his jailer's visit arrived, Dantes `
` straightened the handle of the saucepan as well as he could, `
` and placed it in its accustomed place. The turnkey poured `
` his ration of soup into it, together with the fish -- for `
` thrice a week the prisoners were deprived of meat. This `
` would have been a method of reckoning time, had not Dantes `
` long ceased to do so. Having poured out the soup, the `
` turnkey retired. Dantes wished to ascertain whether his `
` neighbor had really ceased to work. He listened -- all was `
` silent, as it had been for the last three days. Dantes `
` sighed; it was evident that his neighbor distrusted him. `
` However, he toiled on all the night without being `
` discouraged; but after two or three hours he encountered an `
` obstacle. The iron made no impression, but met with a smooth `
` surface; Dantes touched it, and found that it was a beam. `
` This beam crossed, or rather blocked up, the hole Dantes had `
` 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?" `
` `
` "I should have thrown myself into the sea, gained one of the `
` islands near here -- the Isle de Daume or the Isle de `
` Tiboulen -- and then I should have been safe." `
`