Chapter 8 The Chateau D'If
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THE COMMISSARY of police, as he traversed the ante-chamber, made a sign to
two gendarmes, who placed themselves one on Dantииs' right and the other on his left. A door that
communicated with the Palais de Justice was opened, and they went through
a long range of gloomy corridors, whose appearance might have made even
the boldest shudder. The Palais de Justice communicated with the
prison,--a sombre edifice, that from its grated windows looks on the
clock-tower of the Accoules. After numberless windings, Dantииs
saw a door with an iron wicket. The commissary took up an iron mallet and
knocked thrice, every blow seeming to Dantииs as if struck on his heart. The door opened, the
two gendarmes gently pushed him forward, and the door closed with a loud
sound behind him. The air he inhaled was no longer pure, but thick and
mephitic,--he was in prison. He was conducted to a tolerably neat chamber,
but grated and barred, and its appearance, therefore, did not greatly
alarm him; besides, the words of Villefort, who seemed to interest himself
so much, resounded still in his ears like a promise of freedom. It was
four o'clock when Dantииs was placed in this chamber. It
was, as we have said, the 1st of March, and the prisoner was soon buried
in darkness. The obscurity augmented the acuteness of his hearing; at the
slightest sound he rose and hastened to the door, convinced they were
about to liberate him, but the sound died away, and Dantииs sank again into his seat. At last, about ten
o'clock, and just as Dantииs
began to despair, steps were heard in the corridor, a key turned in the
lock, the bolts creaked, the massy oaken door flew open, and a flood of
light from two torches pervaded the apartment. By the torchlight Dantииs saw the glittering sabres and
carbines of four gendarmes. He had advanced at first, but stopped at the
sight of this display of force. "Are
you come to fetch me?" asked he. "Yes,"
replied a gendarme. "By
the orders of the deputy procureur?" "I
believe so." The conviction that they came from M. de Villefort
relieved all Dantииs'
apprehensions; he advanced calmly, and placed himself in the centre of the
escort. A carriage waited at the door, the coachman was on the box, and a
police officer sat beside him. "Is
this carriage for me?" said Dantииs. "It
is for you," replied a gendarme. Dantииs was about to speak; but feeling
himself urged forward, and having neither the power nor the intention to
resist, he mounted the steps, and was in an instant seated inside between
two gendarmes; the two others took their places opposite, and the carriage
rolled heavily over the stones. The
prisoner glanced at the windows--they were grated; he had changed his
prison for another that was conveying him he knew not whither. Through the
grating, however, Dantииs
saw they were passing through the Rue Caisserie, and by the Rue
Saint-Laurent and the Rue Taramis, to the port. Soon he saw the lights of
La Consigne. The
carriage stopped, the officer descended, approached the guardhouse, a
dozen soldiers came out and formed themselves in order; Dantииs saw the reflection of their
muskets by the light of the lamps on the quay. "Can
all this force be summoned on my account?" thought he. The
officer opened the door, which was locked, and, without speaking a word,
answered Dantииs'
question; for he saw between the ranks of the soldiers a passage formed
from the carriage to the port. The two gendarmes who were opposite to him
descended first, then he was ordered to alight and the gendarmes on each
side of him followed his example. They advanced towards a boat, which a
custom-house officer held by a chain, near the quay. The
soldiers looked at Dantииs
with an air of stupid curiosity. In an instant he was placed in the
stern-sheets of the boat, between the gendarmes, while the officer
stationed himself at the bow; a shove sent the boat adrift, and four
sturdy oarsmen impelled it rapidly towards the Pilon. At a shout from the
boat, the chain that closes the mouth of the port was lowered and in a
second they were, as Dantииs knew, in the Frioul and outside
the inner harbor. The
prisoner's first feeling was of joy at again breathing the pure air--for
air is freedom; but he soon sighed, for he passed before La Rииserve, where he had that morning
been so happy, and now through the open windows came the laughter and
revelry of a ball. Dantииs
folded his hands, raised his eyes to heaven, and prayed fervently. The
boat continued her voyage. They had passed the Tи║te de Morte, were now off the Anse du Pharo, and
about to double the battery. This manoeuvre was incomprehensible to Dantииs. "Whither
are you taking me?" asked he. "You
will soon know." "But
still"-- "We
are forbidden to give you any explanation." Dantииs, trained in discipline, knew
that nothing would be more absurd than to question subordinates, who were
forbidden to reply; and so he remained silent. The
most vague and wild thoughts passed through his mind. The boat they were
in could not make a long voyage; there was no vessel at anchor outside the
harbor; he thought, perhaps, they were going to leave him on some distant
point. He was not bound, nor had they made any attempt to handcuff him;
this seemed a good augury. Besides, had not the deputy, who had been so
kind to him, told him that provided he did not pronounce the dreaded name
of Noirtier, he had nothing to apprehend? Had not Villefort in his
presence destroyed the fatal letter, the only proof against him? He
waited silently, striving to pierce through the darkness. They
had left the Ile Ratonneau, where the lighthouse stood, on the right, and
were now opposite the Point des Catalans. It seemed to the prisoner that
he could distinguish a feminine form on the beach, for it was there Mercижdииs dwelt. How was it that a presentiment did not warn
Mercижdииs that her lover was within three
hundred yards of her? One
light alone was visible; and Dantииs saw that it came from Mercижdииs' chamber. Mercижdииs
was the only one awake in the whole settlement. A loud cry could be heard
by her. But pride restrained him and he did not utter it. What would his
guards think if they heard him shout like a madman? He
remained silent, his eyes fixed upon the light; the boat went on, but the
prisoner thought only of Mercижdииs. An intervening elevation of
land hid the light. Dantииs
turned and perceived that they had got out to sea. While he had been
absorbed in thought, they had shipped their oars and hoisted sail; the
boat was now moving with the wind. In
spite of his repugnance to address the guards, Dantииs turned to the nearest gendarme, and taking his
hand,-- "Comrade,"
said he, "I adjure you, as a Christian and a soldier, to tell me
where we are going. I am Captain Dantииs,
a loyal Frenchman, thought accused of treason; tell me where you are
conducting me, and I promise you on my honor I will submit to my
fate." The
gendarme looked irresolutely at his companion, who returned for answer a
sign that said, "I see no great harm in telling him now," and
the gendarme replied,-- "You
are a native of Marseilles, and a sailor, and yet you do not know where
you are going?" "On
my honor, I have no idea." "Have
you no idea whatever?" "None
at all." "That
is impossible." "I
swear to you it is true. Tell me, I entreat." "But
my orders." "Your
orders do not forbid your telling me what I must know in ten minutes, in
half an hour, or an hour. You see I cannot escape, even if I
intended." "Unless
you are blind, or have never been outside the harbor, you must know."
"I
do not." "Look
round you then." Dantииs
rose and looked forward, when he saw rise within a hundred yards of him
the black and frowning rock on which stands the Chateau d'If. This gloomy
fortress, which has for more than three hundred years furnished food for
so many wild legends, seemed to Dantииs
like a scaffold to a malefactor. "The
Chateau d'If?" cried he, "what are we going there for?" The
gendarme smiled. "I
am not going there to be imprisoned," said Dantииs; "it is only used for
political prisoners. I have committed no crime. Are there any magistrates
or judges at the Chateau d'If?" "There
are only," said the gendarme, "a governor, a garrison, turnkeys,
and good thick walls. Come, come, do not look so astonished, or you will
make me think you are laughing at me in return for my good nature."
Dantииs pressed the gendarme's hand as
though he would crush it. "You
think, then," said he, "that I am taken to the Chateau d'If to
be imprisoned there?" "It
is probable; but there is no occasion to squeeze so hard." "Without
any inquiry, without any formality?" "All
the formalities have been gone through; the inquiry is already made."
"And
so, in spite of M. de Villefort's promises?" "I
do not know what M. de Villefort promised you," said the gendarme,
"but I know we are taking you to the Chateau d'If. But what are you
doing? Help, comrades, help!" By
a rapid movement, which the gendarme's practiced eye had perceived, Dantииs sprang forward to precipitate
himself into the sea; but four vigorous arms seized him as his feet
quitted the bottom of the boat. He fell back cursing with rage. "Good!"
said the gendarme, placing his knee on his chest; "believe
soft-spoken gentlemen again! Harkye, my friend, I have disobeyed my first
order, but I will not disobey the second; and if you move, I will blow
your brains out." And he levelled his carbine at Dantииs,
who felt the muzzle against his temple. For
a moment the idea of struggling crossed his mind, and of so ending the
unexpected evil that had overtaken him. But he bethought him of M. de
Villefort's promise; and, besides, death in a boat from the hand of a
gendarme seemed too terrible. He remained motionless, but gnashing his
teeth and wringing his hands with fury. At
this moment the boat came to a landing with a violent shock. One of the
sailors leaped on shore, a cord creaked as it ran through a pulley, and
Dantииs guessed they were at the end of
the voyage, and that they were mooring the boat. His
guards, taking him by the arms and coat-collar, forced him to rise, and
dragged him towards the steps that lead to the gate of the fortress, while
the police officer carrying a musket with fixed bayonet followed behind. Dantииs made no resistance; he was like
a man in a dream: he saw soldiers drawn up on the embankment; he knew
vaguely that he was ascending a flight of steps; he was conscious that he
passed through a door, and that the door closed behind him; but all this
indistinctly as through a mist. He did not even see the ocean, that
terrible barrier against freedom, which the prisoners look upon with utter
despair. They
halted for a minute, during which he strove to collect his thoughts. He
looked around; he was in a court surrounded by high walls; he heard the
measured tread of sentinels, and as they passed before the light he saw
the barrels of their muskets shine. They
waited upwards of ten minutes. Certain Dantииs could not escape, the gendarmes released him. They
seemed awaiting orders. The orders came. "Where
is the prisoner?" said a voice. "Here,"
replied the gendarmes. "Let
him follow me; I will take him to his cell." "Go!"
said the gendarmes, thrusting Dantииs forward. The
prisoner followed his guide, who led him into a room almost under ground,
whose bare and reeking walls seemed as though impregnated with tears; a
lamp placed on a stool illumined the apartment faintly, and showed Dantииs the features of his conductor,
an under-jailer, ill-clothed, and of sullen appearance. "Here
is your chamber for to-night," said he. "It is late, and the
governor is asleep. To-morrow, perhaps, he may change you. In the meantime
there is bread, water, and fresh straw; and that is all a prisoner can
wish for. Goodnight." And before Dantииs could open his mouth--before he had noticed where
the jailer placed his bread or the water--before he had glanced towards
the corner where the straw was, the jailer disappeared, taking with him
the lamp and closing the door, leaving stamped upon the prisoner's mind
the dim reflection of the dripping walls of his dungeon. Dantииs was alone in darkness and in
silence--cold as the shadows that he felt breathe on his burning forehead.
With the first dawn of day the jailer returned, with orders to leave Dantииs where he was. He found the
prisoner in the same position, as if fixed there, his eyes swollen with
weeping. He had passed the night standing, and without sleep. The jailer
advanced; Dantииs
appeared not to perceive him. He touched him on the shoulder. Edmond
started. "Have
you not slept?" said the jailer. "I
do not know," replied Dantииs.
The jailer stared. "Are
you hungry?" continued he. "I
do not know." "Do
you wish for anything?" "I
wish to see the governor." The jailer shrugged his shoulders and left
the chamber. Dantииs followed him with his eyes, and
stretched forth his hands towards the open door; but the door closed. All
his emotion then burst forth; he cast himself on the ground, weeping
bitterly, and asking himself what crime he had committed that he was thus
punished. The
day passed thus; he scarcely tasted food, but walked round and round the
cell like a wild beast in its cage. One thought in particular tormented
him: namely, that during his journey hither he had sat so still, whereas
he might, a dozen times, have plunged into the sea, and, thanks to his
powers of swimming, for which he was famous, have gained the shore,
concealed himself until the arrival of a Genoese or Spanish vessel,
escaped to Spain or Italy, where Mercижdииs and his father could have joined him. He had no
fears as to how he should live--good seamen are welcome everywhere. He
spoke Italian like a Tuscan, and Spanish like a Castilian; he would have
been free, and happy with Mercижdииs and his father, whereas he was
now confined in the Chateau d'If, that impregnable fortress, ignorant of
the future destiny of his father and Mercижdииs;
and all this because he had trusted to Villefort's promise. The thought
was maddening, and Dantииs
threw himself furiously down on his straw. The next morning at the same
hour, the jailer came again. "Well,"
said the jailer, "are you more reasonable to-day?" Dantииs made no reply. "Come,
cheer up; is there anything that I can do for you?" "I
wish to see the governor." "I
have already told you it was impossible." "Why
so?" "Because
it is against prison rules, and prisoners must not even ask for it." "What
is allowed, then?" "Better
fare, if you pay for it, books, and leave to walk about." "I
do not want books, I am satisfied with my food, and do not care to walk
about; but I wish to see the governor." "If
you worry me by repeating the same thing, I will not bring you any more to
eat." "Well,
then," said Edmond, "if you do not, I shall die of hunger--that
is all." The
jailer saw by his tone he would be happy to die; and as every prisoner is
worth ten sous a day to his jailer, he replied in a more subdued tone. "What
you ask is impossible; but if you are very well behaved you will be
allowed to walk about, and some day you will meet the governor, and if he
chooses to reply, that is his affair." "But,"
asked Dantииs,
"how long shall I have to wait?" "Ah,
a month--six months--a year." "It
is too long a time. I wish to see him at once." "Ah,"
said the jailer, "do not always brood over what is impossible, or you
will be mad in a fortnight." "You
think so?" "Yes;
we have an instance here; it was by always offering a million of francs to
the governor for his liberty that an abbиж became mad, who was in this chamber before
you." "How
long has he left it?" "Two
years." "Was
he liberated, then?" "No;
he was put in a dungeon." "Listen!"
said Dantииs.
"I am not an abbиж,
I am not mad; perhaps I shall be, but at present, unfortunately, I am not.
I will make you another offer." "What
is that?" "I
do not offer you a million, because I have it not; but I will give you a
hundred crowns if, the first time you go to Marseilles, you will seek out
a young girl named Mercижdииs, at the Catalans, and give her
two lines from me." "If
I took them, and were detected, I should lose my place, which is worth two
thousand francs a year; so that I should be a great fool to run such a
risk for three hundred." "Well,"
said Dantииs,
"mark this; if you refuse at least to tell Mercижdииs I am here, I will some day hide myself behind the
door, and when you enter I will dash out your brains with this
stool." "Threats!"
cried the jailer, retreating and putting himself on the defensive;
"you are certainly going mad. The abbиж began like you, and in three days you will be like
him, mad enough to tie up; but, fortunately, there are dungeons
here." Dantииs
whirled the stool round his head. "All
right, all right," said the jailer; "all right, since you will
have it so. I will send word to the governor." "Very
well," returned Dantииs,
dropping the stool and sitting on it as if he were in reality mad. The
jailer went out, and returned in an instant with a corporal and four
soldiers. "By
the governor's orders," said he, "conduct the prisoner to the
tier beneath." "To
the dungeon, then," said the corporal. "Yes;
we must put the madman with the madmen." The soldiers seized Dantииs, who followed passively. He
descended fifteen steps, and the door of a dungeon was opened, and he was
thrust in. The door closed, and Dantииs advanced with outstretched hands until he touched
the wall; he then sat down in the corner until his eyes became accustomed
to the darkness. The jailer was right; Dantииs wanted but little of being utterly mad. |
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