intentions of his companion, placed his back securely against the wall, and held out both hands. The stranger, whom as yet Dantès knew only by his assumed title of the number of his cell, sprang up with an agility by no means to be expected in a person of his years, and, light and steady as the bound of a cat or a lizard, climbed from the table to the outstretched hands of Dantès, and from them to his shoulders; then, almost doubling himself in two, for the ceiling of the dungeon prevented his holding himself erect, he managed to slip his head through the top bar of the window, so as to be able to command a perfect view from top to bottom.
An instant afterward he hastily drew back his head, saying, "I thought so!" and, sliding from the shoulders of Dantès as dexterously as he had ascended, he nimbly leaped from the table to the ground.
"What made you say those words?" asked the young man, in an anxious tone, in his turn descending from the table.
The elder prisoner appeared to meditate. "Yes," said he at length, "it is so. This side of your chamber looks out upon a kind of open gallery, where patrols are continually passing, and sentries keep watch day and night."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Certain. I saw the soldier's shako and the top of his musket; that made me draw in my head so quickly, for I was fearful he might also see me."
"Well?" inquired Dantès.
"You perceive then the utter impossibility of escaping through your dungeon?"
"Then———" pursued the young man, eagerly.
"Then," answered the elder prisoner, "the will of God be done!" And as the old man slowly pronounced those words, an air of profound resignation spread itself over his care-worn countenance.
Dantès gazed on the individual who could thus philosophically resign hopes so long and ardently nourished, with an astonishment mingled with admiration.
"Tell me, I entreat of you, who and what you are?" said he at length.
"Willingly," answered the stranger; "if, indeed, you feel any curiosity now that I am powerless to aid you."
"Say not so; you can console and support me by the strength of your own powerful mind."
The stranger smiled a melancholy smile.
"Then listen," said he. "I am the Abbé Faria, and have been imprisoned in this Château d'If since the year 1811; previously to which
