Chapter 14 The Two Prisoners
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A
YEAR AFTER Louis XVIII's restoration, a visit was made by the
inspector-general of prisons. Dantииs
in his cell heard the noise of preparation,--sounds that at the depth
where he lay would have been inaudible to any but the ear of a prisoner,
who could hear the plash of the drop of water that every hour fell from
the roof of his dungeon. He guessed something uncommon was passing among
the living; but he had so long ceased to have any intercourse with the
world, that he looked upon himself as dead. The
inspector visited, one after another, the cells and dungeons of several of
the prisoners, whose good behavior or stupidity recommended them to the
clemency of the government. He inquired how they were fed, and if they had
any request to make. The universal response was, that the fare was
detestable, and that they wanted to be set free. The
inspector asked if they had anything else to ask for. They shook their
heads. What could they desire beyond their liberty? The inspector turned
smilingly to the governor. "I
do not know what reason government can assign for these useless visits;
when you see one prisoner, you see all,--always the same thing,--ill fed
and innocent. Are there any others?" "Yes;
the dangerous and mad prisoners are in the dungeons." "Let
us visit them," said the inspector with an air of fatigue. "We
must play the farce to the end. Let us see the dungeons." "Let
us first send for two soldiers," said the governor. "The
prisoners sometimes, through mere uneasiness of life, and in order to be
sentenced to death, commit acts of useless violence, and you might fall a
victim." "Take
all needful precautions," replied the inspector. Two
soldiers were accordingly sent for, and the inspector descended a
stairway, so foul, so humid, so dark, as to be loathsome to sight, smell,
and respiration. "Oh,"
cried the inspector, "who can live here?" "A
most dangerous conspirator, a man we are ordered to keep the most strict
watch over, as he is daring and resolute." "He
is alone?" "Certainly."
"How
long his he been there?" "Nearly
a year." "Was
he placed here when he first arrived?" "No;
not until he attempted to kill the turnkey, who took his food to
him." "To
kill the turnkey?" "Yes,
the very one who is lighting us. Is it not true, Antoine?" asked the
governor. "True
enough; he wanted to kill me!" returned the turnkey. "He
must be mad," said the inspector. "He
is worse than that,--he is a devil!" returned the turnkey. "Shall
I complain of him?" demanded the inspector. "Oh,
no; it is useless. Besides, he is almost mad now, and in another year he
will be quite so." "So
much the better for him,--he will suffer less," said the inspector.
He was, as this remark shows, a man full of philanthropy, and in every way
fit for his office. "You
are right, sir," replied the governor; "and this remark proves
that you have deeply considered the subject. Now we have in a dungeon
about twenty feet distant, and to which you descend by another stair, an
abbиж, formerly leader of a party in
Italy, who has been here since 1811, and in 1813 he went mad, and the
change is astonishing. He used to weep, he now laughs; he grew thin, he
now grows fat. You had better see him, for his madness is amusing." "I
will see them both," returned the inspector; "I must
conscientiously perform my duty." This was the inspector's first
visit; he wished to display his authority. "Let
us visit this one first," added he. "By
all means," replied the governor, and he signed to the turnkey to
open the door. At the sound of the key turning in the lock, and the
creaking of the hinges, Dantииs,
who was crouched in a corner of the dungeon, whence he could see the ray
of light that came through a narrow iron grating above, raised his head.
Seeing a stranger, escorted by two turnkeys holding torches and
accompanied by two soldiers, and to whom the governor spoke bareheaded,
Dantииs, who guessed the truth, and
that the moment to address himself to the superior authorities was come,
sprang forward with clasped hands. The
soldiers interposed their bayonets, for they thought that he was about to
attack the inspector, and the latter recoiled two or three steps. Dantииs saw that he was looked upon as
dangerous. Then, infusing all the humility he possessed into his eyes and
voice, he addressed the inspector, and sought to inspire him with pity. The
inspector listened attentively; then, turning to the governor, observed,
"He will become religious--he is already more gentle; he is afraid,
and retreated before the bayonets--madmen are not afraid of anything; I
made some curious observations on this at Charenton." Then, turning
to the prisoner, "What is it you want?" said he. "I
want to know what crime I have committed--to be tried; and if I am guilty,
to be shot; if innocent, to be set at liberty." "Are
you well fed?" said the inspector. "I
believe so; I don't know; it's of no consequence. What matters really, not
only to me, but to officers of justice and the king, is that an innocent
man should languish in prison, the victim of an infamous denunciation, to
die here cursing his executioners." "You
are very humble to-day," remarked the governor; "you are not so
always; the other day, for instance, when you tried to kill the
turnkey." "It
is true, sir, and I beg his pardon, for he his always been very good to
me, but I was mad." "And
you are not so any longer?" "No;
captivity his subdued me--I have been here so long." "So
long?--when were you arrested, then?" asked the inspector. "The
28th of February, 1815, at half-past two in the afternoon." "To-day
is the 30th of July, 1816,--why it is but seventeen months." "Only
seventeen months," replied Dantииs. "Oh, you do not know what is seventeen
months in prison!--seventeen ages rather, especially to a man who, like
me, had arrived at the summit of his ambition--to a man, who, like me, was
on the point of marrying a woman he adored, who saw an honorable career
opened before him, and who loses all in an instant--who sees his prospects
destroyed, and is ignorant of the fate of his affianced wife, and whether
his aged father be still living! Seventeen months captivity to a sailor
accustomed to the boundless ocean, is a worse punishment than human crime
ever merited. Have pity on me, then, and ask for me, not intelligence, but
a trial; not pardon, but a verdict--a trial, sir, I ask only for a trial;
that, surely, cannot be denied to one who is accused!" "We
shall see," said the inspector; then, turning to the governor,
"On my word, the poor devil touches me. You must show me the proofs
against him." "Certainly;
but you will find terrible charges." "Monsieur,"
continued Dantииs,
"I know it is not in your power to release me; but you can plead for
me--you can have me tried--and that is all I ask. Let me know my crime,
and the reason why I was condemned. Uncertainty is worse than all." "Go
on with the lights," said the inspector. "Monsieur,"
cried Dantииs,
"I can tell by your voice you are touched with pity; tell me at least
to hope." "I
cannot tell you that," replied the inspector; "I can only
promise to examine into your case." "Oh,
I am free--then I am saved!" "Who
arrested you?" "M.
Villefort. See him, and hear what he says." "M.
Villefort is no longer at Marseilles; he is now at Toulouse." "I
am no longer surprised at my detention," murmured Dantииs, "since my only protector
is removed." "Had
M. de Villefort any cause of personal dislike to you?" "None;
on the contrary, he was very kind to me." "I
can, then, rely on the notes he has left concerning you?" "Entirely."
"That
is well; wait patiently, then." Dantииs fell on his knees, and prayed earnestly. The door
closed; but this time a fresh inmate was left with Dantииs--hope. "Will
you see the register at once," asked the governor, "or proceed
to the other cell?" "Let
us visit them all," said the inspector. "If I once went up those
stairs. I should never have the courage to come down again." "Ah,
this one is not like the other, and his madness is less affecting than
this one's display of reason." "What
is his folly?" "He
fancies he possesses an immense treasure. The first year he offered
government a million of francs for his release; the second, two; the
third, three; and so on progressively. He is now in his fifth year of
captivity; he will ask to speak to you in private, and offer you five
millions." "How
curious!--what is his name?" "The
Abbиж
Faria." "No.
27," said the inspector. "It
is here; unlock the door, Antoine." The turnkey obeyed, and the
inspector gazed curiously into the chamber of the "mad abbиж." In
the centre of the cell, in a circle traced with a fragment of plaster
detached from the wall, sat a man whose tattered garments scarcely covered
him. He was drawing in this circle geometrical lines, and seemed as much
absorbed in his problem as Archimedes was when the soldier of Marcellus
slew him. He
did not move at the sound of the door, and continued his calculations
until the flash of the torches lighted up with an unwonted glare the
sombre walls of his cell; then, raising his head, he perceived with
astonishment the number of persons present. He hastily seized the coverlet
of his bed, and wrapped it round him. "What
is it you want?" said the inspector. "I,
monsieur," replied the abbиж
with an air of surprise--"I want nothing." "You
do not understand," continued the inspector; "I am sent here by
government to visit the prison, and hear the requests of the
prisoners." "Oh,
that is different," cried the abbиж; "and we shall understand each other, I
hope." "There,
now," whispered the governor, "it is just as I told you." "Monsieur,"
continued the prisoner, "I am the Abbиж Faria, born at Rome. I was for twenty years
Cardinal Spada's secretary; I was arrested, why, I know not, toward the
beginning of the year 1811; since then I have demanded my liberty from the
Italian and French government." "Why
from the French government?" "Because
I was arrested at Piombino, and I presume that, like Milan and Florence,
Piombino has become the capital of some French department." "Ah,"
said the inspector, "you have not the latest news from Italy?" "My
information dates from the day on which I was arrested," returned the
Abbиж Faria; "and as the emperor
had created the kingdom of Rome for his infant son, I presume that he has
realized the dream of Machiavelli and C?sar Borgia, which was to make
Italy a united kingdom." "Monsieur,"
returned the inspector, "providence has changed this gigantic plan
you advocate so warmly." "It
is the only means of rendering Italy strong, happy, and independent."
"Very
possibly; only I am not come to discuss politics, but to inquire if you
have anything to ask or to complain of." "The
food is the same as in other prisons,--that is, very bad; the lodging is
very unhealthful, but, on the whole, passable for a dungeon; but it is not
that which I wish to speak of, but a secret I have to reveal of the
greatest importance." "We
are coming to the point," whispered the governor. "It
is for that reason I am delighted to see you," continued the abbиж, "although you have
disturbed me in a most important calculation, which, if it succeeded,
would possibly change Newton's system. Could you allow me a few words in
private." "What
did I tell you?" said the governor. "You
knew him," returned the inspector with a smile. "What
you ask is impossible, monsieur," continued he, addressing Faria. "But,"
said the abbиж,
"I would speak to you of a large sum, amounting to five
millions." "The
very sum you named," whispered the inspector in his turn. "However,"
continued Faria, seeing that the inspector was about to depart, "it
is not absolutely necessary for us to be alone; the governor can be
present." "Unfortunately,"
said the governor, "I know beforehand what you are about to say; it
concerns your treasures, does it not?" Faria fixed his eyes on him
with an expression that would have convinced any one else of his sanity. "Of
course," said he; "of what else should I speak?" "Mr.
Inspector," continued the governor, "I can tell you the story as
well as he, for it has been dinned in my ears for the last four or five
years." "That
proves," returned the abbиж,
"that you are like those of Holy Writ, who having ears hear not, and
having eyes see not." "My
dear sir, the government is rich and does not want your treasures,"
replied the inspector; "keep them until you are liberated." The
abbиж's eyes glistened; he seized the
inspector's hand. "But
what if I am not liberated," cried he, "and am detained here
until my death? this treasure will be lost. Had not government better
profit by it? I will offer six millions, and I will content myself with
the rest, if they will only give me my liberty." "On
my word," said the inspector in a low tone, "had I not been told
beforehand that this man was mad, I should believe what he says." "I
am not mad," replied Faria, with that acuteness of hearing peculiar
to prisoners. "The treasure I speak of really exists, and I offer to
sign an agreement with you, in which I promise to lead you to the spot
where you shall dig; and if I deceive you, bring me here again,--I ask no
more." The
governor laughed. "Is the spot far from here?" "A
hundred leagues." "It
is not ill-planned," said the governor. "If all the prisoners
took it into their heads to travel a hundred leagues, and their guardians
consented to accompany them, they would have a capital chance of
escaping." "The
scheme is well known," said the inspector; "and the abbиж's plan has not even the merit of
originality." Then
turning to Faria--"I inquired if you are well fed?" said he. "Swear
to me," replied Faria, "to free me if what I tell you prove
true, and I will stay here while you go to the spot." "Are
you well fed?" repeated the inspector. "Monsieur,
you run no risk, for, as I told you, I will stay here; so there is no
chance of my escaping." "You
do not reply to my question," replied the inspector impatiently. "Nor
you to mine," cried the abbиж. "You will not accept my gold; I will keep it
for myself. You refuse me my liberty; God will give it me." And the
abbиж, casting away his coverlet,
resumed his place, and continued his calculations. "What
is he doing there?" said the inspector. "Counting
his treasures," replied the governor. Faria
replied to this sarcasm with a glance of profound contempt. They went out.
The turnkey closed the door behind them. "He
was wealthy once, perhaps?" said the inspector. "Or
dreamed he was, and awoke mad." "After
all," said the inspector, "if he had been rich, he would not
have been here." So the matter ended for the Abbиж Faria. He remained in his cell, and this visit only
increased the belief in his insanity. Caligula
or Nero, those treasure-seekers, those desirers of the impossible, would
have accorded to the poor wretch, in exchange for his wealth, the liberty
he so earnestly prayed for. But the kings of modern times, restrained by
the limits of mere probability, have neither courage nor desire. They fear
the ear that hears their orders, and the eye that scrutinizes their
actions. Formerly they believed themselves sprung from Jupiter, and
shielded by their birth; but nowadays they are not inviolable. It
has always been against the policy of despotic governments to suffer the
victims of their persecutions to reappear. As the Inquisition rarely
allowed its victims to be seen with their limbs distorted and their flesh
lacerated by torture, so madness is always concealed in its cell, from
whence, should it depart, it is conveyed to some gloomy hospital, where
the doctor has no thought for man or mind in the mutilated being the
jailer delivers to him. The very madness of the Abbиж
Faria, gone mad in prison, condemned him to perpetual captivity. The
inspector kept his word with Dantииs; he examined the register, and found the following
note concerning him:-- Edmond
Dantииs: Violent
Bonapartist; took an active part in the return from Elba. The
greatest watchfulness and care to be exercised. This
note was in a different hand from the rest, which showed that it had been
added since his confinement. The inspector could not contend against this
accusation; he simply wrote,--"Nothing to be done." This
visit had infused new vigor into Dantииs; he had, till then, forgotten the date; but now,
with a fragment of plaster, he wrote the date, 30th July, 1816, and made a
mark every day, in order not to lose his reckoning again. Days and weeks
passed away, then months--Dantииs
still waited; he at first expected to be freed in a fortnight. This
fortnight expired, he decided that the inspector would do nothing until
his return to Paris, and that he would not reach there until his circuit
was finished, he therefore fixed three months; three months passed away,
then six more. Finally ten months and a half had gone by and no favorable
change had taken place, and Dantииs
began to fancy the inspector's visit but a dream, an illusion of the
brain. At
the expiration of a year the governor was transferred; he had obtained
charge of the fortress at Ham. He took with him several of his
subordinates, and amongst them Dantииs'
jailer. A new governor arrived; it would have been too tedious to acquire
the names of the prisoners; he learned their numbers instead. This
horrible place contained fifty cells; their inhabitants were designated by
the numbers of their cell, and the unhappy young man was no longer called
Edmond Dantииs--he was now number 34. |
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