The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated by Alexandre Dumas
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Chapter 8. The Château d’If
The commissary of police, as he traversed the antechamber, made a signto two gendarmes, who placed themselves one on Dantès’ right and theother on his left. A door that communicated with the Palais de Justicewas opened, and they went through a long range of gloomy corridors,whose appearance might have made even the boldest shudder. The Palais deJustice communicated with the prison,—a sombre edifice, that from itsgrated windows looks on the clock-tower of the Accoules. Afternumberless windings, Dantès saw a door with an iron wicket. Thecommissary took up an iron mallet and knocked thrice, every blow seemingto Dantès as if struck on his heart. The door opened, the two gendarmesgently pushed him forward, and the door closed with a loud sound behindhim. The air he inhaled was no longer pure, but thick and mephitic,—hewas in prison.
He was conducted to a tolerably neat chamber, but grated and barred, andits appearance, therefore, did not greatly alarm him; besides, the wordsof Villefort, who seemed to interest himself so much, resounded still inhis ears like a promise of freedom. It was four o’clock when Dantès wasplaced in this chamber. It was, as we have said, the 1st of March, andthe prisoner was soon buried in darkness. The obscurity augmented theacuteness of his hearing; at the slightest sound he rose and hastened tothe door, convinced they were about to liberate him, but the sound diedaway, and Dantès sank again into his seat. At last, about ten o’clock,and just as Dantès began to despair, steps were heard in the corridor, akey turned in the lock, the bolts creaked, the massy oaken door flewopen, and a flood of light from two torches pervaded the apartment.
By the torchlight Dantès saw the glittering sabres and carbines of fourgendarmes. He had advanced at first, but stopped at the sight of thisdisplay 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 Villefortrelieved all Dantès’ apprehensions; he advanced calmly, and placedhimself in the centre of the escort. A carriage waited at the door, thecoachman was on the box, and a police officer sat beside him.
“Is this carriage for me?” said Dantès.
“It is for you,” replied a gendarme.
Dantès was about to speak; but feeling himself urged forward, and havingneither the power nor the intention to resist, he mounted the steps, andwas in an instant seated inside between two gendarmes; the two otherstook their places opposite, and the carriage rolled heavily over thestones.
The prisoner glanced at the windows—they were grated; he had changed hisprison for another that was conveying him he knew not whither. Throughthe grating, however, Dantès saw they were passing through the RueCaisserie, and by the Rue Saint-Laurent and the Rue Taramis, to thequay. 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; Dantès saw thereflection 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 aword, answered Dantès’ question; for he saw between the ranks of thesoldiers a passage formed from the carriage to the port. The twogendarmes who were opposite to him descended first, then he was orderedto alight and the gendarmes on each side of him followed his example.They advanced towards a boat, which a custom-house officer held by achain, near the quay.
The soldiers looked at Dantès with an air of stupid curiosity. In aninstant he was placed in the stern-sheets of the boat, between thegendarmes, while the officer stationed himself at the bow; a shove sentthe boat adrift, and four sturdy oarsmen impelled it rapidly towards thePilon. At a shout from the boat, the chain that closes the mouth of theport was lowered and in a second they were, as Dantès knew, in theFrioul and outside the inner harbor.
The prisoner’s first feeling was of joy at again breathing the pureair—for air is freedom; but he soon sighed, for he passed before LaRéserve, where he had that morning been so happy, and now through theopen windows came the laughter and revelry of a ball. Dantès folded hishands, raised his eyes to heaven, and prayed fervently.
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The boat continued her voyage. They had passed the Tête de Mort, werenow off the Anse du Pharo, and about to double the battery. Thismanœuvre was incomprehensible to Dantès.
“Whither are you taking me?” asked he.
“You will soon know.”
“But still——”
“We are forbidden to give you any explanation.” Dantès, trained indiscipline, knew that nothing would be more absurd than to questionsubordinates, who were forbidden to reply; and so he remained silent.
The most vague and wild thoughts passed through his mind. The boat theywere in could not make a long voyage; there was no vessel at anchoroutside the harbor; he thought, perhaps, they were going to leave him onsome distant point. He was not bound, nor had they made any attempt tohandcuff 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 pronouncethe dreaded name of Noirtier, he had nothing to apprehend? Had notVillefort in his presence destroyed the fatal letter, the only proofagainst him?
He waited silently, striving to pierce through the darkness.
They had left the Ile Ratonneau, where the lighthouse stood, on theright, and were now opposite the Point des Catalans. It seemed to theprisoner that he could distinguish a feminine form on the beach, for itwas there Mercédès dwelt. How was it that a presentiment did not warnMercédès that her lover was within three hundred yards of her?
One light alone was visible; and Dantès saw that it came from Mercédès’chamber. Mercédès was the only one awake in the whole settlement. A loudcry could be heard by her. But pride restrained him and he did not utterit. 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, butthe prisoner thought only of Mercédès. An intervening elevation of landhid the light. Dantès turned and perceived that they had got out to sea.While he had been absorbed in thought, they had shipped their oars andhoisted sail; the boat was now moving with the wind.
In spite of his repugnance to address the guards, Dantès turned to thenearest gendarme, and taking his hand,
“Comrade,” said he, “I adjure you, as a Christian and a soldier, to tellme where we are going. I am Captain Dantès, a loyal Frenchman, thoughtaccused of treason; tell me where you are conducting me, and I promiseyou on my honor I will submit to my fate.”
The gendarme looked irresolutely at his companion, who returned foranswer a sign that said, “I see no great harm in telling him now,” andthe gendarme replied:
“You are a native of Marseilles, and a sailor, and yet you do not knowwhere 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 tenminutes, in half an hour, or an hour. You see I cannot escape, even if Iintended.”
“Unless you are blind, or have never been outside the harbor, you mustknow.”
“I do not.”
“Look round you then.” Dantès rose and looked forward, when he saw risewithin a hundred yards of him the black and frowning rock on whichstands the Château d’If. This gloomy fortress, which has for more thanthree hundred years furnished food for so many wild legends, seemed toDantès like a scaffold to a malefactor.
“The Château d’If?” cried he, “what are we going there for?”
The gendarme smiled.
“I am not going there to be imprisoned,” said Dantès; ??
“There are only,” said the gendarme, “a governor, a garrison, turnkeys,and good thick walls. Come, come, do not look so astonished, or you willmake me think you are laughing at me in return for my good nature.”
Dantès pressed the gendarme’s hand as though he would crush it.
“You think, then,” said he, “that I am taken to the Château d’If to beimprisoned 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 alreadymade.”
“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 Château d’If. But what are youdoing? Help, comrades, help!”
By a rapid movement, which the gendarme’s practiced eye had perceived,Dantès sprang forward to precipitate himself into the sea; but fourvigorous arms seized him as his feet quitted the bottom of the boat. Hefell back cursing with rage.
“Good!” said the gendarme, placing his knee on his chest; “this is theway you keep your word as a sailor! Believe soft-spoken gentlemen again!Hark ye, my friend, I have disobeyed my first order, but I will notdisobey the second; and if you move, I will blow your brains out.” Andhe levelled his carbine at Dantès, who felt the muzzle against histemple.
For a moment the idea of struggling crossed his mind, and of so endingthe 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 agendarme seemed too terrible. He remained motionless, but gnashing histeeth and wringing his hands with fury.
At this moment the boat came to a landing with a violent shock. One ofthe sailors leaped on shore, a cord creaked as it ran through a pulley,and Dantès guessed they were at the end of the voyage, and that theywere 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 followedbehind.
Dantès made no resistance; he was like a man in a dream; he saw soldiersdrawn up on the embankment; he knew vaguely that he was ascending aflight of steps; he was conscious that he passed through a door, andthat the door closed behind him; but all this indistinctly as through amist. He did not even see the ocean, that terrible barrier againstfreedom, which the prisoners look upon with utter despair.
They halted for a minute, during which he strove to collect histhoughts. He looked around; he was in a court surrounded by high walls;he heard the measured tread of sentinels, and as they passed before thelight he saw the barrels of their muskets shine.
They waited upwards of ten minutes. Certain Dantès could not escape, thegendarmes 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 Dantès forward.
The prisoner followed his guide, who led him into a room almost underground, whose bare and reeking walls seemed as though impregnated withtears; a lamp placed on a stool illumined the apartment faintly, andshowed Dantès the features of his conductor, an under-jailer, ill-clothed, and of sullen appearance.
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“Here is your chamber for tonight,” said he. “It is late, and thegovernor is asleep. Tomorrow, perhaps, he may change you. In themeantime there is bread, water, and fresh straw; and that is all aprisoner can wish for. Goodnight.” And before Dantès could open hismouth—before he had noticed where the jailer placed his bread or thewater—before he had glanced towards the corner where the straw was, thejailer disappeared, taking with him the lamp and closing the door,leaving stamped upon the prisoner’s mind the dim reflection of thedripping walls of his dungeon.
Dantès was alone in darkness and in silence—cold as the shadows that hefelt breathe on his burning forehead. With the first dawn of day thejailer returned, with orders to leave Dantès where he was. He found theprisoner in the same position, as if fixed there, his eyes swollen withweeping. He had passed the night standing, and without sleep. The jaileradvanced; Dantès appeared not to perceive him. He touched him on theshoulder. Edmond started.
“Have you not slept?” said the jailer.
“I do not know,” replied Dantès. 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.
Dantès followed him with his eyes, and stretched forth his hands towardsthe open door; but the door closed. All his emotion then burst forth; hecast himself on the ground, weeping bitterly, and asking himself whatcrime he had committed that he was thus punished.
The day passed thus; he scarcely tasted food, but walked round and roundthe cell like a wild beast in its cage. One thought in particulartormented him: namely, that during his journey hither he had sat sostill, whereas he might, a dozen times, have plunged into the sea, and,thanks to his powers of swimming, for which he was famous, have gainedthe shore, concealed himself until the arrival of a Genoese or Spanishvessel, escaped to Spain or Italy, where Mercédès and his father couldhave joined him. He had no fears as to how he should live—good seamenare welcome everywhere. He spoke Italian like a Tuscan, and Spanish likea Castilian; he would have been free, and happy with Mercédès and hisfather, whereas he was now confined in the Château d’If, thatimpregnable fortress, ignorant of the future destiny of his father andMercédès; and all this because he had trusted to Villefort’s promise.The thought was maddening, and Dantès threw himself furiously down onhis straw. The next morning at the same hour, the jailer came again.
“Well,” said the jailer, “are you more reasonable today?” Dantès made noreply.
“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 forit.”
“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 towalk about; but I wish to see the governor.”
“If you worry me by repeating the same thing, I will not bring you anymore to eat.”
“Well, then,” said Edmond, “if you do not, I shall die of hunger—that isall.”
The jailer saw by his tone he would be happy to die; and as everyprisoner is worth ten sous a day to his jailer, he replied in a moresubdued tone.
“What you ask is impossible; but if you are very well behaved you willbe allowed to walk about, and some day you will meet the governor, andif he chooses to reply, that is his affair.”
“But,” asked Dantès, “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, oryou will be mad in a fortnight.”
“You think so?”
“Yes; we have an instance here; it was by always offering a million offrancs to the governor for his liberty that an abbé became mad, who wasin this chamber before you.”
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“How long has he left it?”
“Two years.”
“Was he liberated, then?”
“No; he was put in a dungeon.”
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“What is that?”
“I do not offer you a million, because I have it not; but I will giveyou a hundred crowns if, the first time you go to Marseilles, you willseek out a young girl named Mercédès, at the Catalans, and give her twolines from me.”
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“If I took them, and were detected, I should lose my place, which isworth two thousand francs a year; so that I should be a great fool torun such a risk for three hundred.”
“Well,” said Dantès, “mark this; if you refuse at least to tell MercédèsI am here, I will some day hide myself behind the door, and when youenter I will dash out your brains with this stool.”
“Threats!” cried the jailer, retreating and putting himself on thedefensive; “you are certainly going mad. The abbé began like you, and inthree days you will be like him, mad enough to tie up; but, fortunately,there are dungeons here.”
Dantès whirled the stool round his head.
“All right, all right,” said the jailer; “all right, since you will haveit so. I will send word to the governor.”
“Very well,” returned Dantès, dropping the stool and sitting on it as ifhe were in reality mad. The jailer went out, and returned in an instantwith a corporal and four soldiers.
“By the governor’s orders,” said he, “conduct the prisoner to the tierbeneath.”
“To the dungeon, then,” said the corporal.
“Yes; we must put the madman with the madmen.” The soldiers seizedDantès, who followed passively.
He descended fifteen steps, and the door of a dungeon was opened, and hewas thrust in. The door closed, and Dantès advanced with outstretchedhands until he touched the wall; he then sat down in the corner untilhis eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The jailer was right; Dantèswanted but little of being utterly mad.