mination of my enterprise; and, just at the moment when I reckoned upon success, my hopes are forever dashed from me. No, I repeat again, that nothing shall induce me to renew attempts to regain my liberty which the will of God has decreed I shall lose forever."
Dantès held down his head, that his companion might not perceive that the prospect of having a companion prevented him from sympathizing as he ought with the disappointment of the prisoner.
The abbé sunk upon Edmond's bed, while Edmond himself remained standing, lost in a train of deep meditation.
Flight had never once occurred to him. There are, indeed, some things which appear so impossible that the mind does not dwell on them. To undermine the ground for fifty feet — to devote three years to a labor which, if successful, would conduct you to a precipice over hanging the sea — to plunge into the waves at a height of fifty or sixty feet — a hundred feet, perhaps — at the risk of being dashed to pieces against the rocks, should you have been fortunate enough to have escaped the balls from the sentinel's musket; and even, supposing all these perils past, then to have to swim for your life a distance of at least three miles ere you could reach the shore — were difficulties so startling and formidable that Dantès had never even dreamed of such a scheme, but resigned himself to his fate.
But the sight of an old man clinging to life with so desperate a courage gave a fresh turn to his ideas, and inspired him with new courage and energy. An instance was before him of one less adroit, as well as weaker and older, having devised a plan which nothing but an unfortunate mistake in geometrical calculation could have rendered abortive, and of having, with almost incredible patience and perseverance, contrived to provide himself with tools requisite for so unparalleled an attempt. If, then, one man had already conquered the seeming impossibility, why should not he, Dantès, also try to regain his liberty? Faria had made his way through fifty feet of the prison; Dantes resolved to penetrate through double that distance. Faria, at the age of fifty, had devoted three years to the task; he, who was but half as old, would sacrifice six. Faria, a churchman and philosopher, had not shrunk from risking his life by trying to swim a distance of three miles to reach the isles of Daume, Ratonneau, or Lemaire; should a hardy sailor, an experienced diver, like himself, shrink from a similar task; should he, who had so often for mere amusement's sake plunged to the bottom of the sea to fetch up the bright coral-branch, hesitate to swim a distance of three miles? He could do it in an hour, and how many times had he for pure pastime continued in the water for more than twice as long! At once Dantès resolved to follow the example of
