The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Duma Vol 1 Chapter 20 The Cemetery of the Châteultir On the bed at full length and faintly illuminated by the pale light that came from the window lay a sack of canvas. When under its root folds were stretched a long and stiffened form, it was various last winding sheet, a winding sheet which, as the turnkey said, cost so little. Everything was in readiness, a barrier had been placed between Dautes and his old friend. No longer could Edmund look into those wide open eyes which had seemed to be penetrating the mysteries of death. No longer could he collapse the hen which had done so much to make his existence blessed. Varia, the beneficent and cheerful companion, with whom he was accustomed to live so intimately, no longer breed. He seated himself on the edge of that terrible bed and fell into melancholy and blew me reverie. Alone, he was alone again, again condemned to silence, again face to face with nothingness, alone. Time to see the face never again to hear the voice of the only human being who united him to have. Was not Varia's fate the better after all, to solve the problem of life at its source, even at the risk of horrible suffering. The idea of suicide, which his friend had driven away and kept away by his cheerful presence, now hovered like a phantom over the abbe's dead body. "If I could die," he said, "I should go where he goes and should assuredly find him again. But how to die? It is very easy." He went on with his smile, "I will remain here, rush on the first person that opens the door, strangle him, and then they will guillotine me. But excessive grief is like a storm at sea, where the frail bark is tossed from the depths of the top of the way. Don't this becoiled from the idea of so infamous a death, and has suddenly from despair to an ardent desire for life and liberty?" "Dye, oh no," he exclaimed, "not die now, after having lived in submits so long and so much. Die, yes, had I died years ago, but now to die would be, indeed, to give way to the sarcasm of destiny. No, I want to live. I shall struggle to the very last. I will yet win back the happiness of which I have been deprived. Before I die, I must not forget that I have my executioners to punish, and perhaps two, who knows, some friends to reward. Yet they will forget me here, and I shall die in my dungeon like fog. As he said this, he became silent and gay, straight before him like one overwhelmed with a strange and amazing thought. The heroes lifted his hand to his brow as if his brain were giddy, paced twice or twice round the dungeon, and then paused abruptly by the bed. "Just God," he muttered, "when's comes this thought? Is it from thee, sings none but the dead past freely from this dungeon? Let me take the place of the dead." Without giving himself time to reconsider his decision, and indeed that he might not allow his thought to be distracted from his desperate resolution, he bent over the appalling shout, opened it with the knife which Vary had made, drew the corpse from the sack, and bore it along the tunnel to his own chamber, laid it on his couch, tied around his head the rat he wore at night around his own, covered it with his counter-pain, once again kissed the ice-cold brown, and shried faintly to close the resisting eyes, which clad horribly. Turned ahead towards the wall so that the jailer might, when he broke the evening meal, believed that he was asleep, as was his frequent custom, entered the tunnel again, drew the bed against the wall, returned to the other cell, took from the hiding place the needle and thread, flung off his racks, that they might feel only naked flesh beneath the corpse canvas, and getting inside the sack, placed himself in the posture in which the dead body had been laid, and sewed up the mouth of the sack from the inside. He would have been discovered by the beating of his heart, if by any chance the jailers had entered at that moment, Dontes might have waited until the evening visit was over, but he was afraid that the governor would change his mind, and ordered the dead body to be removed earlier, in that case his last hope would have been destroyed, now his plans were fully made, and this is what he intended to do, if while he was being carried out the grave diggers should discover that they were bearing a life instead of a dead body, Dontes did not intend to give them time to recognise him, but with a sudden cuts of the knife, he meant to open his sack from top to bottom, and profiting by their alarm escaping, if they tried to catch him he would use his knife to better purpose, they took him to the cemetery and laid him in a grave, he would allow himselfly covered with earth, and then as it was night, the grave diggers could scarcely have turned their backs before he would have worked his way through the yielding soil and escaped, he hoped that the weight of earth would not be so great that he could not overcome it, if he was detected in this and the earth proved too heavy he would be stifled, and then so much to better all would be over, Dontes had not eaten sins to preceding evening, but he had not thought of hunger, nor did he think of it now, his situation was too precarious to allow him even time to reflect on any thought but one, the first risk that Dontes ran was, that the jailer, when he brought him his supper at seven o'clock, might perceive the change that had been made, fortunately twenty times at least, from his sonthropy or fatigue, Dontes had received his jailer in bed, and then the man placed his bread and soup on the table, and went away without saying a word, this time the jailer might not be as silent as usual, but speak to Dontes, and seeing that he received no reply, go to the bed, and thus discover all, when seven o'clock came, Dontes agony really began, his hand placed upon his hearts was unable to redress his frobings, while with the other he wiped the perspiration from his temples, from time to time chills ran through his whole body, and clutched his heart in a grasp of ice, then he thought he was going to die, yet the hours passed on without any unusual disturbance, and Dontes knew that he had escaped the first peril, it was a good orgery, at length about the hour the governor had appointed, footsteps were heard on the stairs, Edmund felt that the moment had arrived, summoned up all his carriage, held his breath, and would have been happy if at the same time he could have repressed the throbbing of his veins, the footsteps, they were double, crossed at the door, and Dontes guessed that the two grave diggers had come to seek him, this idea was soon converted into certainty, when he heard the noise they made in putting down the hand beer, the door opened, and a dim light reached Dontes eyes through the coarse sack that covered him, he saw two shadows approach his bed, a third remaining at the door with a torch in his hand, the two men approaching the ends of the bed took the sack by his extremities, he is happy though, for an old and thin man, said one, as he raised ahead, they say every year adds half a pound to the weight of the bones, said another, lifting the feet, if you tied the knot in quite the first speaker, what would be the use of carrying so much more weight, was to reply, I can do that when we get there, yes you're right, replied the companion, what's the knot for, thought Dontes, they deposited the supposed corpse on the beer, Edmund stiffened himself in order to play the part of a dead man, and then the party, lighted by the man with the torch, who went first, ascended the stairs, suddenly he felt the fresh and sharp night air, and Dontes knew that the Mistral was blowing, it was a sensation in which pleasure and pain were strangely mingled, the barris went on for twenty paces, then stopped, putting the beer down on the ground, one of them went away, and Dontes heard his shoes striking on a pavement, where am I, he asked himself, really he is by no means a light load, said the other bearer, sitting on the edge of the hand barrel, Dontes first impulse was to escape, but fortunately he did not attempt it, give us a light, said the other bearer, or I shall never find what I am looking for, the man with the torch complied, although not asked in the most polite terms, what can he be looking for, thought Edmund, to spade perhaps, an exclamation of satisfaction indicated that the grave digger had found the object of his search, here it is at last, he said, no without some trouble though, yes was the answer, but it has lost nothing by waiting, as he said this the man came towards Edmund, who heard a heavy metallic substance laid down beside him, and at the same moment a chord was fastened round his feet with sudden and painful violence, well have you tied the knot in quite the grave digger, who was looking on, yes and pretty tight too I can tell you, was the answer, move on then, and the beer was lifted once more, and they proceeded, they advanced fifty paces farther, and then stopped to open the door, then went forward again, the noise of the waves stashing against the rocks on which the chateau was built, reached Dontes' ear distinctly as they went forward, bad weather, observed one of the berries, not a pleasant night for a dip in his seat, why yes the abbey runs a chance of being wet, said the other, and then there was a burst of brutal laughter, Dontes did not comprehend the gist, but his hair stood erect on his head, well here we are at last, said one of them, a little father, a little father, said the other, you know very well that the last was stopped on his way, dashed on the rocks, and the governor told us next day that we were careless fellows, they ascended five or six more steps, and then Dontes felt that they took him, one by the head and the other by the heels, and swung him to and fro, one, said the grave diggers, two, three, and at the same instant Dontes felt himself flung to the air like a wounded bird, falling, with a rapidity that made his blood curdle, although drawn downwards by the heavy weights which faced him his rapid descent, it seemed to him as if the fall lasted for a century, at last with a horrible splash, he darted like an arrow into the ice coat water, and as he did so he uttered a shrill cry, stifled in a moment by his immersion beneath the waves, Dontes had been flung into the sea, and was dragged into its depths by a 36 pound shot tied to his feet, to see his decimetry of the shuttle dish. Dontes, although stunned and almost suffocated, had sufficient presence of mind to hold his breath, and as his right hand helped his knife open, he rapidly ripped up the sack, extricated his arm, and then his body, but in spite of all his efforts to free himself from the shot, he felt it dragging him down still lower, he then bent his body, and by a desperate effort severed the court that bound his legs, at the moment when it seemed as if he were actually strangled, with the mighty leap he rose to the service of the sea, while the shot dragged down to depths to sack that had so nearly become his shroud. Dontes waited only to get breath, and then dived in order to avoid being seen, when he arose a second time he was 50 paces from where he had first sunk, he saw overhead a black and tempestuous sky, across which the wind was driving clouds that occasionally severed a twinkling star to appear, before him was the fast expanse of waters, somber and terrible, whose waves foamed and roared as if before the approach of a storm. Behind him, blacker than the sea, blacker than the sky, rose phantom-like the fast-dont structure, whose projecting cracks seemed like arms extended to seize their prey, and on the highest rock was a torch lighting two figures. He fancied that these two forms were looking at the sea, doubtless the strange grave diggers had hurt his cry. Dontes dived again, and remained a long time beneath the water. This was an easy feat to him, for he usually attracted a crowd of spectators in the bay before the lighthouse at Marseille when he swarmed there, and was unanimously declared to be the best swimmer in the port, when he came up again the light had disappeared. He must now get his bearings. Chardonnough and Pomeg are the nearest islands of all those that surround the Chateau dive, but Chardonnough and Pomeg are inhabited, as is also the island of Daume, Tibolin and the mare were therefore the safest for Dontes venture. The islands of Tibolin and the mare are leaped from the Chateau dive. Dontes, nevertheless, determined to make for them, but how could he find his way in the darkness of the night? At this moment he saw the light of plenty gleaming in front of him like a star. By leaving the slight on the right, he kept the island of Tibolin a little on the left, but turning to the left therefore he would find it. But as we have said, it was at least a league from the Chateau dive to this island, often in prison Farrier had said to him when he saw him idle and inactive. Dontes, you must not give way to thislessness, you will be drowned if you seek to escape, and your strength has not been properly exercised and prepared for exertion. These words rang in Dontes' ears, even beneath the waves. He hastened to cleave his way through them to see if he had not lost his strength. He found with pleasure that his captivity had taken away nothing of his power, and that he was still master of that element on whose bosom he had so often sported as a boy. Fear that relentless pursuer clocked Dontes' efforts. He listened for any sound that might be audible, and every time that he rose to the top of a wave he scanned the horizon, and strove to penetrate the darkness. He fancied that every wave behind him was a pursuing boat, and he redoubled his exertions, releasing rapidly his distance from the chateau, but exhausting his strength. He swam on still, and already the terrible chateau had disappeared in the darkness. He could not see it, but he felt its presence. In our past, during which Dontes, excited by the feeling of freedom, continued to cleave the waves. "Let us see," said he. "I have swam about for now, but as the wind is against me, that has retarded my speed. However, if I am not mistaken, I must be close to teeple, but what if I were mistaken?" A shudder passed over him. He sought to tread water in order to rest himself, but the sea was too violent, and he felt that he could not make use of this means of recuperation. "Well," said he, "I will swim on until I am worn out, or the cramp seizes me, and then I shall sink, and he struck out the energy of despair. Many the skies seemed to him to become still darker and more dense, and heavy clouds seemed to sweep down towards him. At the same time he felt a sharp pain in his knee. He fancied for a moment that he had been shot, and listened for the report, but he heard nothing. Then he put out his hand, and encountered an obstacle, and with another stroke knew that he had gained the shore. Before him rose, a grotesque mass of rocks that resembled nothing so much as a fast-fire petrified at the moment of its most verven combustion. It was the island of Teew. Dante's rose advanced a few steps, and with a verven prayer of gratitude stretched himself on a granite, which seemed to him softer than now. Then in spite of the wind and rain, he fell into the deep, sweet sleep of utter exhaustion. At the expiration of an hour, Edmund was awakened by the roar of thunder. The tempest was let loose, and beating the atmosphere with his mighty wings. From time to time a flash of lightning stretched across the heavens like a fiery serpent, lighting up the clouds that rode on in fast, chaotic waves. Dante's had not been deceived. He had reached the first of the two islands, which was, in fact, Tibleen. He knew that it was barren and without shelter, but when the sea became more calm, he resolved to plunge into its waves again, and swim to La Mer, equally arid, but larger, and consequently better adapted for concealment. An overhanging rock offered him a temporary shelter, and scarcely had he availed himself of it when the tempest burst forth in all its fury. Edmund felt the trembling of the rock beneath which he lay. The waves, dashing themselves against it, wetted him with their spray. He was safely shouted, and yet he felt dizzy in the mist of the warring of the elements and the dazzling brightness of the lightning. It seemed to him that the island trembled to its base, and that it would, like a fassel at anchor, break warrings, and bear him off into the center of the storm. He then recollected that he had not eaten or drugged for two and twenty hours. He extended his hands and drank readily of the rain water that had lodged in the hollow of the rock. As he rose, a flash of lightning, that seemed to writhe the remotest heights of heaven illumined darkness. But its light, between the island of La Mer and Cape Craselle, a quarter of a league distant. Dontes saw a fishing boat driven rapidly like a spectre before the power of winds and waves, and second after he saw it again, approaching with frightful rapidity. Dontes cried at the top of his voice to warn them of the danger, but they saw it themselves. Another flash showed him four men clinging to the shattered mast and the rigging, while a fifth clung to the broken rudder. The men he beheld saw him undoubtedly, for their cries were carried to his ears by the wind. About the splintered mast a sail ran to Tatter's was waving. Suddenly the roasts that still held it gave way, and it disappeared in the darkness of the night like a far seabird. At the same moment a violent crash was heard, and cries of distress. Dontes from his rocky perch saw the shattered vessel, and among the fragments the floating forms of the helpless sailors, then all stark again. Dontes ran down the rocks, at the risk of being himself dashed to pieces. He listened, he groped about, but he heard and saw nothing. The cries had seized, and the tempers continued to rage. By degrees the wind abated, fast grey clouds rolled towards the west, and the blue firmament appeared studded with bright stars. Soon a rat streak became fissile in the horizon, the waves whitened, a light played over them, and gilded their foaming crests with gold. It was day. Dontes stood mute and motionless before this majestic spectacle, as if he now beheld it for the first time, and indeed since his captivity in the shadow div he had forgotten that such scenes were ever to be witnessed. He turned towards the fortress, and looked at both sea and land. The gloomy building rose from the bosom of the ocean with imposing majesty and seemed to dominate the scene. It was about five o'clock, the sea continued to get calmer. In two or three hours, thought Dontes, the turned key will enter my chamber, find a body of my poor friend, recognize it, seek for me in vain, and give the alarm, then the tunnel will be discovered, the man who casts me into the sea, and who must have heard the cry I uttered, will be questioned. Then boats filled with armed soldiers will pursue the wretched fugitive. The cannon will warn everyone to refuse shelter to a man wandering about naked and famished. The police, of my say, will be on the alert by land, whilst the governor pursues me by sea. I am cold, I am hungry. I have lost even the knife that saved me. Oh, my God, I have severed enough surely, have pity on me, and do for me what I am unable to do for myself. As Dontes uttered this prayer, he saw off the father point of the island of Pomeg, a small festival with latin sails skimming the sea like a gull in search of prey, and with his sailors' eye he knew it to be a genuese tartan. She was coming out of Marseille Harbour, and was standing out to sea rapidly. A sharp prowl, cleaving through the waves. "Oh!" cried Edmund, "To think that in half an hour I could join her, did I not fear being questioned, detected, and conveyed back to Marseille? What can I do? What story can I invent? Under pretext of trading along the coast, these men, who are in reality smugglers, will prefer selling me to doing a good action. I must wait, but I cannot. I am starving. In a few hours my strength will be utterly exhausted, besides perhaps I have not been missed at the fortress. I can pass as one of the sailors wrecked last night. My story will be accepted, for there is no one left to contradict me." As he spoke, Dontes looked toward the spot where the fishing festival had been wrecked and started. The red cap of one of the sailors hung to a point of the rock in some timbers that had formed part of the vessel's key, floated at the foot of the track. In an instant Dontes plan was formed, he swam to the cap, placed it on his head, seized one of the timbers, and struck out so as to cut across the course the vessel was taken. I am saved, murmured he, and this conviction restored his strength. He soon saw that the vessel with the wind dead ahead was tacking between the shuttle div and the tower of Xanyi, for an instant he feared less, instead of keeping in shore she should stand out to see, but he soon saw that she would pass, like most vessels bound for Italy, between the islands of Járos and Keneserheim, however the vessel and the swimmer insensibly need one another, and in one of its texts the tartan bore down within a quarter of a mile of him. He rose on the waves, making signs of distress, but no one on board saw him, and the vessel stood on another tack, Dontes would have shouted, but he knew that the wind would drown his voice. It was then he rejoiced at his precaution in taking the timber, but without it he would have been unable perhaps to reach the vessel, certainly to return to shore, should he be unsuccessful in attracting attention. Dontes, though almost sure as to what course the vessel would take, had yet watched it anxiously until it tacked and stood towards him, then he advanced, but before they could meet the vessel again changed her course. By a violent effort he rose half out of the water, waving his cap and uttering a loud shout peculiar to say this, this time he was both seen and heard, and the tartan instantly steered towards him, at the same time he saw they were about to lower the boat. An instant after the boat, rode by two men, advanced rapidly towards him, Dontes let go of the timber, which he now thought to be useless, and swam vigorously to meet them, but he had reckoned too much upon his strength, and then he realized how serviceable the timber had been to him, his arms became stiff, his legs lost their flexibility, and he was almost breathless. He shouted again, "The two sailors redoubled their efforts, and one of them cried in Italian." Courage! The word reached his ear as a wave which he no longer had the strength to surmount past over his head. He rose again to the surface, struggled with the last desperate effort of a drowning man uttered a third cry, and felt himself sinking, as if the fatal cannon shots were again tied to his feet. The water passed over his head, and the sky turned grey. The compulsive movement again brought him to the surface. He felt himself seized by the hair, then he saw and heard nothing. He had fainted. When he opened his eyes, Dontes found himself on the deck of the tartan. His first care was to see what course they were taking. They were rapidly leaving the shadow div behind. Dontes was so exhausted that the exclamation of joy he uttered was mistaken for a sigh. As we have said, he was lying on the deck. A sailor was rubbing his limbs with a woolen cloth, another whom he recognized as the one who had cried out courage, held a god full of rum to his mouth. While the third, an old sailor, at once the pilot and captain, looked on with that egotistical pity man feel for him his fortune that they have escaped yesterday, and which may over take them tomorrow. A few drops of rum restored suspended animation, while the friction of his limbs restored their elasticity. "Who are you?" said the pilot in Bad French. "I am," replied Dontes, in Bad Italian, "a Maltese sailor. We were coming for Syracuse, laden with grain. The storm of last night overtook us at Cape Mongeau, and we were wrecked on these rocks. Where do you come from?" From these rocks that I had, the good luck to cling to while our captain and the rest of the crew were all lost. I saw your vessel, and fearful of being left to perish on the desolate island. I swam off on a piece of wreckage to try and intercept your course. You have saved my life, and I thank you," continued Dontes. "I was lost when one of your sailors caught hold of my hair. It was I," said the sailor of a frank and manly appearance, "and it was time for you were sinking." "Yes," returned Dontes, holding out his hand. "I thank you again." "I almost hesitated, though," replied the sailor. "You looked more like a brigand than an honest man, with your beard six inches and your hair a foot long." Dontes recollected that his hair and beard had not been cut all the time he was at the shuttle diff. "Yes," said he, "I made a vow to our lady of the grotto not to cut my hair or beard for ten years if I was saved in a moment of danger. But today the foul expires." "Now, what are we to do with you?" said the captain. "Alas, anything you please. My captain is dead. I have barely escaped, but I am a good sailor. Leave me at the first port you make. I shall be sure to find employment." "Do you know them at a terrain? I have sailed over it since my childhood. You know the best harbors? There are a few ports that I could not enter or leave with a bandage over my eyes. I say, captain, sat to sailor who had cried courage to Dontes. If what he says is true, what hinders his staying with us? If he says true, sat to captain doubting me. But in his present condition he will promise anything and take his chance of keeping it afterwards. I will do more than I promise, sat Dontes. We shall save, return the other smile. Where are you going? Ask Dontes. To let go. Then why? Instead of attacking so frequently, do not sail near the wind because we should run straight on to the island of Rheum. You shall pass it by twenty fathoms. Stick to hell and let us see what you know. The young man took to hell, felt to see if the vessel answered the rather promptly and seeing that, without being a first-rate sailor, she yet was terribly obedient. To the sheet, sat he, the four seaman who composed the crew away while the pilot looked on. Hold tight, they obeyed. Belé, this order was also executed and the vessel passed as Dontes had predicted twenty fathoms to win. Bravo, sat the captain. Bravo, repeated to say this, and they all looked with astonishment at this man whose eye now disclosed an intelligence and his body a figure that they had not thought him capable of showing. You see, sat Dontes, quitting the helmet, I shall be of some use to you, at least during the voyage. If you do not want me at Leghon, you can leave me there, and I will pay you out of the first wages I get, for my food and a clothes you lend me. Ah, sat the captain. We can agree very well, if you are reasonable. Give me what you give the others, and it will be alright. Return Dontes. That's not fair, sat the seaman who had saved Dontes, for you know more than we do. What is that to you, Yakupo? Return to captain. Everyone is free to ask what he pleases. That's true, replied Yakupo. I only make a remark. Well, you would do much better to find him a jacket and a pair of trousers, if you have them. No, said Yakupo. But I have a shirt and a pair of trousers. That is all I want, interrupted Dontes. Yakupo dived into the hold and soon returned with what Edmund wanted. Now then, do you wish for anything else, said the patron. A piece of bread and another glass of the capital rum I tasted, for I have not eaten or drunk for a long time. He had not tasted food for 40 hours. A piece of bread was brought and Yakupo offered him the gourd. La bought your help, cried the captain to the steersman. Dontes glanced that way as he lifted the gourd to his mouth, then paused with hand in mid-air. "Holo, what's the matter at the Chateau dif?" said the captain. A small white cloud, which had attracted Dontes' attention, crowned the summit of the bastion of the Chateau dif. At the same moment, the famed report of a gun was heard, the sailors looked at one another. "What is this?" asked the captain. A prisoner has escaped from the Chateau dif, and they are firing their long gun," replied Dontes. The captain glanced at him, but he had lifted the rum to his lips and was drinking it with so much composure that suspicions if the captain had any died away. "Pretty strong rum," said Dontes, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "At any rate, may I met he, if it be, so much to better, for I have made a rare acquisition." Under pretense of being fatigued, Dontes asked to take the help. The steersman, glad to be relieved, looked at the captain. And the latter by a sign indicated that he might abandon it to his new comrade. Dontes could thus keep his eyes on Marseilles. On his day of the month, asked he of Jakobu, who sat down beside him, the 28th of February. "In what year?" "In what year?" He asked me, "In what year?" "Yes," replied the young man. "I asked you in what year?" "You have forgotten that." "I got such a fright last night," replied Dontes, smiling. "Then I have almost lost my memory." "I asked you what year is it?" The year 1829 returned Jakobu. It was 14 years, day for day, since Dontes' arrest. He was 19 when he entered the Chateau dif. He was 33 when he escaped. A sorrowful smile passed over his face. He asked himself what had become of messages, who must believe him dead. Then his eyes lighted up with hatred, as he thought of the three men who had cost him so long and wretched a captivity. He renewed against danglers, Vernon, and Fuqua, the oath of implacable vengeance he had made in the stuncher. This oath was no longer feignments. For the fastest sailor in the Mediterranean would have been unable to overtake the Little Tut. That with every stitch of canvas sets was flying before they went to Leopold. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas Vol. 1, chapter 22. The Smucklers. Dontes had not been a day on board before he had a very clear idea of the men with whom his lot had been cast. Without having been in the school of the Abbe Farien, the worthy master of Legean Emmeline knew a smattering of all the tongues spoken on the shores of that large lake called the Mediterranean, from the Arabic to the Provençal. This while it spared him interpreters, persons always troublesome and frequently indiscreet gave him great facilities of communication, either with the vessels he met at sea, with the small boats sailing along the coast, or with the people without name, country or occupation, who are always seen on the keys of seaports, and who live by hidden and mysterious means which we must suppose to be a direct gift of providence, as they have no visible means of support. It is fair to assume that Dontes was on board a smuggler. At first the captain had received Dontes on board with a certain degree of distrust. He was very well known to the customs officers of the coast, and as stairwells between these worthies and himself a perpetual battle of wits, he had at first thought that Dontes might be an emissary of these industrious guardians of rights and duties, who perhaps employed this ingenious means of learning some of the secrets of his trade, but skillful manner in which Dontes had handled the lugger had entirely reassured him. And then when he saw the light plume of smoke floating above the bastion of the shadowed div and heard the distant report, he was instantly struck with the idea that he had on board his vessel one who's coming and going, like that of kings, was accompanied with salutes of artillery. This made him less than easy. It must be owned, than if the newcomer had proved to be a customs officer, but this supposition also disappeared like the first, when he beheld the perfect tranquility of his recruit. Edmund thus had the advantage of knowing what the owner was, without the owner knowing who he was, and however the old sailor and his crew tried to pump him. They extracted nothing more from him. He gave accurate descriptions of Naples and Malta, which he knew as well as Marseille, and held stoutly to his first story. Thus the Genoese, subtle as he was, was stooped by Edmund, in whose favour his mild demeanour, his nautical skill, and his admirable dissimulation pleaded. Moreover, it is possible that the Genoese was one of those shrewd persons who know nothing but what they should know, and believe nothing but what they should believe. In this state of mutual understanding, they reached Lacon. Here Edmund was to undergo another trial. He was to find out whether he could recognise himself, as he had not seen his own face for fourteen years. He had preserved a tolerably good remembrance of what the youth had been, and was now to find out what the man had become. His comrades believed that his vow was fulfilled. As he had twenty times touched at Lacon, he remembered a barber in Saint Vernonen Street. He went there to have his beard and hair cut. The barber gazed in amazement at this man with the long thick and black hair and beard, which gave his head the appearance of one of Titian's portraits. At this period it was not the fashion to wear so large a beard and hair so long. Now a barber would only be surprised if a man gifted with such advantages should consent voluntarily to deprive himself of them. The Lacon barber said nothing and went to work. When the operation was concluded, an admin felt that his chin was completely smooth and his hair reduced to its usual length. He asked for a looking glass. He was now, as we have said, three and thirty years of age, and his fourteen years imprisonment had produced a great transformation in his appearance. Dontes had entered the chattel div with the round, opened smiling face of a young and happy man, with whom the early paths of life had been smoothed, and who anticipates if future corresponding with his past. This was now all changed. The oval face was lengthened. His smiling mouth had assumed the firm and marked lines which betoken resolution. His eyebrows were arched beneath a brow ferrode with thought, his eyes were full of melancholy, and from their depths occasionally sparkled gloomy fires of misentropy. His complexion, so long kept from the sun, had now that pale colour which produces when the features are encircled with black hair, the aristocratic beauty of the man of the north. The profound learning he had acquired had besides diffused over his features a refined intellectual expression, and he had also acquired being naturally of a goodly stature, that figure which a frame possesses which has so long concentrated on its force within itself. To the elegance of a nervous and slight form had succeeded the solidity of a rounded and muscular figure. As to his voice, prayer, sobs and imprecations had changed it so that at times it was of a singularly penetrating sweetness and at others rough and almost hoarse. Moreover, from being so long in twilight or darkness his eyes had acquired the faculty of distinguishing objects in the night, common to the hyena and the wolf. Edmund smiled when he beheld himself. It was impossible that his best friend, if indeed he had any friend left, could recognise him. He could not recognise himself. The master of Légien-Amélie, who was very desirous of retaining amongst his crew a man of Edmund's value, had offered to advance him funds out of his future profits, which Edmund had accepted. His next care on leaving the barbers who had achieved his first metamorphosis was to enter a shop and buy a complete sailor's suit, a garb, as we all know, very simple and consisting of white trousers, a striped shirt and a cap. It was in this costume, and bringing back to Jakopo the shirt and trousers he had lent him, that Edmund reappeared before the captain of the lugger, who had made him tell his story over and over again before he could believe him, or recognise in the neat and trim sailor the man with thick and mattered beard, hair tangled with seaweed and body soaking in seabry, whom he had picked up naked and nearly drowned. Attracted by his pre-processing periods, he renewed his offers of an engagement to Dontes, but Dontes, who had his own projects, would not agree for a longer time than three months. Légien-Amélie had a very active crew, very obedient to their captain, who lost as little time as possible. He had scarcely been a week at Leghorn before the hold of his vessel was filled with printed muslins, contraband cottons, English powder, and tobacco on which the exercise had forgotten to put its mark. The master was to get all this out of Leghorn free of duties and land it on the shores of Corsica, where certain speculators undertook to forward the cargo to France. They sailed, Edmund was again cleaving the Azure Sea, which had been the first horizon of his youth, and which he had so often dreamed of in prison. He left Gogone, on his right, and Lapienosa, on his left, and went towards the country of Paoli and Napoleon. The next morning, going on deck, as he always did at an early hour, the patron found Dontes leaning against the bulweps gazing with intense earnestness at the pile of granite rocks, which the rising sun tinged with rosy light. It was the island of Monte Cristo. Leghorn-Amélie left the three-quarters of a Legh to the law board and kept on for Corsica. Dontes thought, as they passed so closely to the island whose name was so interesting to him, that he had only to leap into the sea and in half an hour be at the promised land. But then, what could he do without instruments to discover his treasure, without arms to defend himself? Besides, what would sailors say? What would the patron think? He must wait. Fortunately, Dontes had learned how to wait. He had waited fourteen years for his liberty, and now he was free he could wait at least six months or a year for wealth. Would he not have accepted liberty without riches if it had been offered to him? Besides, were not those riches chimerical? Of spring of the brain of the poor Abépharia, had they not died with him? It is true, the letter of the Cardinal Spada was singularly circumstantial, and Dontes repeated it to himself, from one end to the other, for he had not forgotten the word. Evening came, and Edmund saw the island tinged with the shades of twilight, and then disappeared in the darkness from all eyes, but his own, for he would fission accustomed to the gloom of the prison, continued to behold it last of all, for he remained alone upon deck. The next morn broke off the coast of Aleria, all day they coasted, and in the evening saw fires lighted on land. The position of these was no doubt a signal for landing. For a ship's lantern was hung up at the masthead instead of the streamer, and it came to within a gunshot of the shore. Dontes noticed that the captain of Légien-Amélie had, as indeed the land, mounted two small coverings, which, without making much noise, can throw a four-ounce ball at thousand paces or so. But on this occasion the precaution was superfluous, and everything proceeded with the utmost smoothness and plans. Those shallops came off with very little noise alongside the lugger, which no doubt in acknowledgement of the continent lowered her own shut up into the sea. And the five boats worked so well that by two o'clock in the morning all the cargo was out of Légien-Amélie and on terra femme. The same night such a man of regularity was the patron of Légien-Amélie, the prophets were divided, and each man had a hundred Tuscan leavers, or about eighty francs. But the voyage was not ended. They turned the boat sprit towards Sardinia, where they intended to take in a cargo, which was to replace what had been discharged. The second operation was as successful as the first, Légien-Amélie was in luck. This new cargo was destined for the coast of the Duchy of Luca, and consisted almost entirely of Havana cigars, Sherry, and Malaga ones. There they had a bit of a skirmish in getting rid of the duties. The exercise was, in truth, the everlasting enemy of the patron of Légien-Amélie. A customs officer was laid low, and two sailors wounded. Dontes was one of the latter, a ball having touched him in the left shoulder. Dontes was almost glad of this affair, and almost pleased at being wounded, for they were root lessons which taught him with what eye he could view danger, and with what endurance he could bear suffering. He had contemplated danger with a smile, and when wounded had exclaimed with the great philosopher, Paine, thou art not an evil. He had moreover looked upon the customs officer wounded to death, and, whether from heats of blood produced by an encounter, or the chill of human sentiment, this sight had made but slight impression upon him. Dontes was on the way he decided to follow, and was moving towards the end he wished to achieve. His heart was in a fair way of petrifying in his bosom. Yacopo, seeing him fall, had believed him killed, and rushing towards him raised him up and then attended to him with all the kindness of a devoted comrade. This world was not then so good as Dr. Panglos believed it, neither was it so wicked as Dontes thought it. Since this man, who had nothing to expect from his comrade but the inheritance of his share of the prize money, manifested so much sorrow when he saw him fall. Fortunately as we have said, Edmund was only wounded, and with certain herbs gathered at certain seasons, and sold to the smugglers by the old Sardinian women, the wound soon closed. Edmund then resolved to try Yacopo, and offered him in return for his attention a share of his prize money, but Yacopo refused it indignantly. As a result of this sympathetic devotion which Yacopo had from the first bestowed on Edmund, the letter was moved to a certain degree of affection, but this suffised for Yacopo, who instinctively felt that Edmund had a right to superiority of position, a superiority which Edmund had concealed from all others, and from this time the kindness which Edmund showed him was enough for the brave seaman. Then in the long days on board ship, when the vessel, gliding on with security over the Azure Sea, required no care but the hand of the helmsmen, thanks to the favourable winds that swelled her sails, Edmund, with a chart in his hand, became the instructor of Yacopo, as the poor Abifaria had been his tutor. He pointed out to him the bearings of the coast, explained to him the variations of the compass, and taught him to read in that fast book opened over our heads which they call heaven, and where God writes in Azure with letters of diamonds. And when Yacopo inquired of him, "What is the use of teaching all these things to a poor sailor like me?" Edmund replied, "Who knows, you may one day be the captain of a vessel. Your fellow countrymen, Bonaparte, became Emperor. We have forgotten to say that Yacopo was a corsicant." Two months and a half elapsed in these trips, and Edmund had become as skillful a coaster as he had been a hardy seaman. He had formed an acquaintance with all the smugglers on the coast, and learned all the masonic signs by which these half pirates recognised each other. He had passed and reparced his island of Monte Cristo twenty times, but not once, had he found an opportunity of landing there. He then formed a resolution. As soon as his engagement with the patron of Leger-Amelie ended, he would hire a small vessel on his own account, for in his several voyages he had amassed a hundred piastus, and under some pretexts land at the island of Monte Cristo. Then he would be free to make his researches, not perhaps entirely at liberty, for he would be doubtless watched by those who accompanied him, but in this world we must risk something. Edmund had made Edmund prudent, and he was desirous of running no risk, whatever, but in vain did he rack his imagination. Verteil, as it was, he could not devise any plan for reaching the island without companionship. Dante's was tossed about on these doubts and wishes, when the patron who had great confidence in him and was very desirous of retaining him in his service, took him by the arm one evening and led him to a tavern on the Via de Loyo, where the leading smugglers of Leghorn used to congregate and discuss affairs connected with the trade. Already Dontes had fisted this maritime balls two or three times, and seeing all these hardy free traders, who supplied the whole coast for nearly two hundred leaks in extent, he had asked himself what power might not that manateeing who should give the impulse of his will to all these contrary and diverging might. This time it was a great matter that was under discussion, connected with a vessel laden with turkey carpets, stuffs of the Levant, and cashews. It was necessary to find some neutral ground on which an exchange could be made, and then to try and land these goods on the coast of France. If the venture was successful, the profit would be enormous, but there would be a gain of 50 or 60 pastors each for the crew. The patron of Leghorn Emily proposed as a place of landing the island of Monte Tristo, which being completely deserted and having neither soldiers nor revenue officers, seemed to have been placed in the midst of the ocean since the time of the Heathen Olympus by Mercury. The gold of merchants and robbers, classes of mankind which we in modern times have separated if not made distinct, but which antiquity appears to have included in the same category. At the mention of Monte Tristo, Dontes started with joy. He rose to conceal his emotion and took a turn around the smoky tower, where all the languages of the known world were jumbled in the lingua franca. When he again joined the two persons who had been discussing the matter, it had been decided that they should touch at Monte Tristo and set out on the following night. Edmund, being consulted, was of opinion that the island afforded every possible security and that great enterprises to be well done should be done quickly. Nothing then was altered in the plan, and orders were given to get underway next night and win and weather permitting to make the neutral island by the following day. Decimulation Decimulation Now, concealment of one's thoughts, feelings, or character, pretense. Imprecations Imprecations Now, a spoken curse. Exise Exise Exise Now, tax levied on certain goods and commodities produced or sold within a country and on licenses granted for certain activities. Verb, cuts out surgically. lingua franca lingua franca Now, a language that is adopted as a common language between speakers whose native languages are different. Historical meaning The mixture of Italian with French, Greek, Arabic, and Spanish, formally used in the Eastern Mediterranean.
