Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.11-39
suddenly frustrated his hopes, Dantes did not lose his `
` presence of mind, but descended into the passage, dragging `
` his unfortunate companion with him; then, half-carrying, `
` half-supporting him, he managed to reach the abbe's chamber, `
` when he immediately laid the sufferer on his bed. `
` `
` "Thanks," said the poor abbe, shivering as though his veins `
` were filled with ice. "I am about to be seized with a fit of `
` catalepsy; when it comes to its height I shall probably lie `
` still and motionless as though dead, uttering neither sigh `
` nor groan. On the other hand, the symptoms may be much more `
` violent, and cause me to fall into fearful convulsions, foam `
` at the mouth, and cry out loudly. Take care my cries are not `
` heard, for if they are it is more than probable I should be `
` removed to another part of the prison, and we be separated `
` forever. When I become quite motionless, cold, and rigid as `
` a corpse, then, and not before, -- be careful about this, -- `
` force open my teeth with the knife, pour from eight to ten `
` drops of the liquor contained in the phial down my throat, `
` and I may perhaps revive." `
` `
` "Perhaps!" exclaimed Dantes in grief-stricken tones. `
` `
` "Help! help!" cried the abbe, "I -- I -- die -- I" -- `
` `
` So sudden and violent was the fit that the unfortunate `
` prisoner was unable to complete the sentence; a violent `
` convulsion shook his whole frame, his eyes started from `
` their sockets, his mouth was drawn on one side, his cheeks `
` became purple, he struggled, foamed, dashed himself about, `
` and uttered the most dreadful cries, which, however, Dantes `
` prevented from being heard by covering his head with the `
` blanket. The fit lasted two hours; then, more helpless than `
` an infant, and colder and paler than marble, more crushed `
` and broken than a reed trampled under foot, he fell back, `
` doubled up in one last convulsion, and became as rigid as a `
` corpse. `
` `
` Edmond waited till life seemed extinct in the body of his `
` friend, then, taking up the knife, he with difficulty forced `
` open the closely fixed jaws, carefully administered the `
` appointed number of drops, and anxiously awaited the result. `
` An hour passed away and the old man gave no sign of `
` returning animation. Dantes began to fear he had delayed too `
` long ere he administered the remedy, and, thrusting his `
` hands into his hair, continued gazing on the lifeless `
` features of his friend. At length a slight color tinged the `
` livid cheeks, consciousness returned to the dull, open `
` eyeballs, a faint sigh issued from the lips, and the `
` sufferer made a feeble effort to move. `
` `
` "He is saved! he is saved!" cried Dantes in a paroxysm of `
` delight. `
` `
` The sick man was not yet able to speak, but he pointed with `
` evident anxiety towards the door. Dantes listened, and `
` plainly distinguished the approaching steps of the jailer. `
` It was therefore near seven o'clock; but Edmond's anxiety `
` had put all thoughts of time out of his head. The young man `
` sprang to the entrance, darted through it, carefully drawing `
` the stone over the opening, and hurried to his cell. He had `
` scarcely done so before the door opened, and the jailer saw `
` the prisoner seated as usual on the side of his bed. Almost `
` before the key had turned in the lock, and before the `
` departing steps of the jailer had died away in the long `
` corridor he had to traverse, Dantes, whose restless anxiety `
` concerning his friend left him no desire to touch the food `
` brought him, hurried back to the abbe's chamber, and raising `
` the stone by pressing his head against it, was soon beside `
` the sick man's couch. Faria had now fully regained his `
` consciousness, but he still lay helpless and exhausted. `
` `
` "I did not expect to see you again," said he feebly, to `
` Dantes. `
` `
` "And why not?" asked the young man. "Did you fancy yourself `
` dying?" `
` `
` "No, I had no such idea; but, knowing that all was ready for `
` flight, I thought you might have made your escape." The deep `
` glow of indignation suffused the cheeks of Dantes. `
` `
` "Without you? Did you really think me capable of that?" `
` `
` "At least," said the abbe, "I now see how wrong such an `
` opinion would have been. Alas, alas! I am fearfully `
` exhausted and debilitated by this attack." `
` `
` "Be of good cheer," replied Dantes; "your strength will `
` return." And as he spoke he seated himself near the bed `
` beside Faria, and took his hands. The abbe shook his head. `
` `
` "The last attack I had," said he, "lasted but half an hour, `
` and after it I was hungry, and got up without help; now I `
` can move neither my right arm nor leg, and my head seems `
` uncomfortable, which shows that there has been a suffusion `
` of blood on the brain. The third attack will either carry me `
` off, or leave me paralyzed for life." `
` `
` "No, no," cried Dantes; "you are mistaken -- you will not `
` die! And your third attack (if, indeed, you should have `
` another) will find you at liberty. We shall save you another `
` time, as we have done this, only with a better chance of `
` success, because we shall be able to command every requisite `
` assistance." `
` `
` "My good Edmond," answered the abbe, "be not deceived. The `
` attack which has just passed away, condemns me forever to `
` the walls of a prison. None can fly from a dungeon who `
` cannot walk." `
` `
` "Well, we will wait, -- a week, a month, two months, if need `
` be, -- and meanwhile your strength will return. Everything `
` is in readiness for our flight, and we can select any time `
` we choose. As soon as you feel able to swim we will go." `
` `
` "I shall never swim again," replied Faria. "This arm is `
` paralyzed; not for a time, but forever. Lift it, and judge `
` if I am mistaken." The young man raised the arm, which fell `
` back by its own weight, perfectly inanimate and helpless. A `
` sigh escaped him. `
` `
` "You are convinced now, Edmond, are you not?" asked the `
` abbe. "Depend upon it, I know what I say. Since the first `
` attack I experienced of this malady, I have continually `
` reflected on it. Indeed, I expected it, for it is a family `
` inheritance; both my father and grandfather died of it in a `
` third attack. The physician who prepared for me the remedy I `
` have twice successfully taken, was no other than the `
` celebrated Cabanis, and he predicted a similar end for me." `
` `
` "The physician may be mistaken!" exclaimed Dantes. "And as `
` for your poor arm, what difference will that make? I can `
` take you on my shoulders, and swim for both of us." `
` `
` "My son," said the abbe, "you, who are a sailor and a `
` swimmer, must know as well as I do that a man so loaded `
` would sink before he had done fifty strokes. Cease, then, to `
` allow yourself to be duped by vain hopes, that even your own `
` excellent heart refuses to believe in. Here I shall remain `
` till the hour of my deliverance arrives, and that, in all `
` human probability, will be the hour of my death. As for you, `
` who are young and active, delay not on my account, but fly `
` -- go-I give you back your promise." `
` `
` "It is well," said Dantes. "Then I shall also remain." Then, `
` rising and extending his hand with an air of solemnity over `
` the old man's head, he slowly added, "By the blood of Christ `
` I swear never to leave you while you live." `
` `
` Faria gazed fondly on his noble-minded, single-hearted, `
` high-principled young friend, and read in his countenance `
` ample confirmation of the sincerity of his devotion and the `
` loyalty of his purpose. `
` `
` "Thanks," murmured the invalid, extending one hand. "I `
` accept. You may one of these days reap the reward of your `
` disinterested devotion. But as I cannot, and you will not, `
` quit this place, it becomes necessary to fill up the `
` excavation beneath the soldier's gallery; he might, by `
` chance, hear the hollow sound of his footsteps, and call the `
` attention of his officer to the circumstance. That would `
` bring about a discovery which would inevitably lead to our `
` being separated. Go, then, and set about this work, in `
` which, unhappily, I can offer you no assistance; keep at it `
` all night, if necessary, and do not return here to-morrow `
` till after the jailer his visited me. I shall have something `
` of the greatest importance to communicate to you." `
` `
` Dantes took the hand of the abbe in his, and affectionately `
` pressed it. Faria smiled encouragingly on him, and the young `
` man retired to his task, in the spirit of obedience and `
` respect which he had sworn to show towards his aged friend. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 18 `
` The Treasure. `
` `
` When Dantes returned next morning to the chamber of his `
` companion in captivity, he found Faria seated and looking `
` composed. In the ray of light which entered by the narrow `
` window of his cell, he held open in his left hand, of which `
` alone, it will be recollected, he retained the use, a sheet `
` of paper, which, from being constantly rolled into a small `
` compass, had the form of a cylinder, and was not easily kept `
` open. He did not speak, but showed the paper to Dantes. `
` `
` "What is that?" he inquired. `
` `
` "Look at it," said the abbe with a smile. `
` `
` "I have looked at it with all possible attention," said `
` Dantes, "and I only see a half-burnt paper, on which are `
` traces of Gothic characters inscribed with a peculiar kind `
` of ink." `
` `
` "This paper, my friend," said Faria, "I may now avow to you, `
` since I have the proof of your fidelity -- this paper is my `
` treasure, of which, from this day forth, one-half belongs to `
` you." `
`
` presence of mind, but descended into the passage, dragging `
` his unfortunate companion with him; then, half-carrying, `
` half-supporting him, he managed to reach the abbe's chamber, `
` when he immediately laid the sufferer on his bed. `
` `
` "Thanks," said the poor abbe, shivering as though his veins `
` were filled with ice. "I am about to be seized with a fit of `
` catalepsy; when it comes to its height I shall probably lie `
` still and motionless as though dead, uttering neither sigh `
` nor groan. On the other hand, the symptoms may be much more `
` violent, and cause me to fall into fearful convulsions, foam `
` at the mouth, and cry out loudly. Take care my cries are not `
` heard, for if they are it is more than probable I should be `
` removed to another part of the prison, and we be separated `
` forever. When I become quite motionless, cold, and rigid as `
` a corpse, then, and not before, -- be careful about this, -- `
` force open my teeth with the knife, pour from eight to ten `
` drops of the liquor contained in the phial down my throat, `
` and I may perhaps revive." `
` `
` "Perhaps!" exclaimed Dantes in grief-stricken tones. `
` `
` "Help! help!" cried the abbe, "I -- I -- die -- I" -- `
` `
` So sudden and violent was the fit that the unfortunate `
` prisoner was unable to complete the sentence; a violent `
` convulsion shook his whole frame, his eyes started from `
` their sockets, his mouth was drawn on one side, his cheeks `
` became purple, he struggled, foamed, dashed himself about, `
` and uttered the most dreadful cries, which, however, Dantes `
` prevented from being heard by covering his head with the `
` blanket. The fit lasted two hours; then, more helpless than `
` an infant, and colder and paler than marble, more crushed `
` and broken than a reed trampled under foot, he fell back, `
` doubled up in one last convulsion, and became as rigid as a `
` corpse. `
` `
` Edmond waited till life seemed extinct in the body of his `
` friend, then, taking up the knife, he with difficulty forced `
` open the closely fixed jaws, carefully administered the `
` appointed number of drops, and anxiously awaited the result. `
` An hour passed away and the old man gave no sign of `
` returning animation. Dantes began to fear he had delayed too `
` long ere he administered the remedy, and, thrusting his `
` hands into his hair, continued gazing on the lifeless `
` features of his friend. At length a slight color tinged the `
` livid cheeks, consciousness returned to the dull, open `
` eyeballs, a faint sigh issued from the lips, and the `
` sufferer made a feeble effort to move. `
` `
` "He is saved! he is saved!" cried Dantes in a paroxysm of `
` delight. `
` `
` The sick man was not yet able to speak, but he pointed with `
` evident anxiety towards the door. Dantes listened, and `
` plainly distinguished the approaching steps of the jailer. `
` It was therefore near seven o'clock; but Edmond's anxiety `
` had put all thoughts of time out of his head. The young man `
` sprang to the entrance, darted through it, carefully drawing `
` the stone over the opening, and hurried to his cell. He had `
` scarcely done so before the door opened, and the jailer saw `
` the prisoner seated as usual on the side of his bed. Almost `
` before the key had turned in the lock, and before the `
` departing steps of the jailer had died away in the long `
` corridor he had to traverse, Dantes, whose restless anxiety `
` concerning his friend left him no desire to touch the food `
` brought him, hurried back to the abbe's chamber, and raising `
` the stone by pressing his head against it, was soon beside `
` the sick man's couch. Faria had now fully regained his `
` consciousness, but he still lay helpless and exhausted. `
` `
` "I did not expect to see you again," said he feebly, to `
` Dantes. `
` `
` "And why not?" asked the young man. "Did you fancy yourself `
` dying?" `
` `
` "No, I had no such idea; but, knowing that all was ready for `
` flight, I thought you might have made your escape." The deep `
` glow of indignation suffused the cheeks of Dantes. `
` `
` "Without you? Did you really think me capable of that?" `
` `
` "At least," said the abbe, "I now see how wrong such an `
` opinion would have been. Alas, alas! I am fearfully `
` exhausted and debilitated by this attack." `
` `
` "Be of good cheer," replied Dantes; "your strength will `
` return." And as he spoke he seated himself near the bed `
` beside Faria, and took his hands. The abbe shook his head. `
` `
` "The last attack I had," said he, "lasted but half an hour, `
` and after it I was hungry, and got up without help; now I `
` can move neither my right arm nor leg, and my head seems `
` uncomfortable, which shows that there has been a suffusion `
` of blood on the brain. The third attack will either carry me `
` off, or leave me paralyzed for life." `
` `
` "No, no," cried Dantes; "you are mistaken -- you will not `
` die! And your third attack (if, indeed, you should have `
` another) will find you at liberty. We shall save you another `
` time, as we have done this, only with a better chance of `
` success, because we shall be able to command every requisite `
` assistance." `
` `
` "My good Edmond," answered the abbe, "be not deceived. The `
` attack which has just passed away, condemns me forever to `
` the walls of a prison. None can fly from a dungeon who `
` cannot walk." `
` `
` "Well, we will wait, -- a week, a month, two months, if need `
` be, -- and meanwhile your strength will return. Everything `
` is in readiness for our flight, and we can select any time `
` we choose. As soon as you feel able to swim we will go." `
` `
` "I shall never swim again," replied Faria. "This arm is `
` paralyzed; not for a time, but forever. Lift it, and judge `
` if I am mistaken." The young man raised the arm, which fell `
` back by its own weight, perfectly inanimate and helpless. A `
` sigh escaped him. `
` `
` "You are convinced now, Edmond, are you not?" asked the `
` abbe. "Depend upon it, I know what I say. Since the first `
` attack I experienced of this malady, I have continually `
` reflected on it. Indeed, I expected it, for it is a family `
` inheritance; both my father and grandfather died of it in a `
` third attack. The physician who prepared for me the remedy I `
` have twice successfully taken, was no other than the `
` celebrated Cabanis, and he predicted a similar end for me." `
` `
` "The physician may be mistaken!" exclaimed Dantes. "And as `
` for your poor arm, what difference will that make? I can `
` take you on my shoulders, and swim for both of us." `
` `
` "My son," said the abbe, "you, who are a sailor and a `
` swimmer, must know as well as I do that a man so loaded `
` would sink before he had done fifty strokes. Cease, then, to `
` allow yourself to be duped by vain hopes, that even your own `
` excellent heart refuses to believe in. Here I shall remain `
` till the hour of my deliverance arrives, and that, in all `
` human probability, will be the hour of my death. As for you, `
` who are young and active, delay not on my account, but fly `
` -- go-I give you back your promise." `
` `
` "It is well," said Dantes. "Then I shall also remain." Then, `
` rising and extending his hand with an air of solemnity over `
` the old man's head, he slowly added, "By the blood of Christ `
` I swear never to leave you while you live." `
` `
` Faria gazed fondly on his noble-minded, single-hearted, `
` high-principled young friend, and read in his countenance `
` ample confirmation of the sincerity of his devotion and the `
` loyalty of his purpose. `
` `
` "Thanks," murmured the invalid, extending one hand. "I `
` accept. You may one of these days reap the reward of your `
` disinterested devotion. But as I cannot, and you will not, `
` quit this place, it becomes necessary to fill up the `
` excavation beneath the soldier's gallery; he might, by `
` chance, hear the hollow sound of his footsteps, and call the `
` attention of his officer to the circumstance. That would `
` bring about a discovery which would inevitably lead to our `
` being separated. Go, then, and set about this work, in `
` which, unhappily, I can offer you no assistance; keep at it `
` all night, if necessary, and do not return here to-morrow `
` till after the jailer his visited me. I shall have something `
` of the greatest importance to communicate to you." `
` `
` Dantes took the hand of the abbe in his, and affectionately `
` pressed it. Faria smiled encouragingly on him, and the young `
` man retired to his task, in the spirit of obedience and `
` respect which he had sworn to show towards his aged friend. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 18 `
` The Treasure. `
` `
` When Dantes returned next morning to the chamber of his `
` companion in captivity, he found Faria seated and looking `
` composed. In the ray of light which entered by the narrow `
` window of his cell, he held open in his left hand, of which `
` alone, it will be recollected, he retained the use, a sheet `
` of paper, which, from being constantly rolled into a small `
` compass, had the form of a cylinder, and was not easily kept `
` open. He did not speak, but showed the paper to Dantes. `
` `
` "What is that?" he inquired. `
` `
` "Look at it," said the abbe with a smile. `
` `
` "I have looked at it with all possible attention," said `
` Dantes, "and I only see a half-burnt paper, on which are `
` traces of Gothic characters inscribed with a peculiar kind `
` of ink." `
` `
` "This paper, my friend," said Faria, "I may now avow to you, `
` since I have the proof of your fidelity -- this paper is my `
` treasure, of which, from this day forth, one-half belongs to `
` you." `
`