"Well!" said Faria, when the young man had finished reading it.
"Why," replied Dantès, "I see nothing but broken lines and unconnected words, which are rendered illegible by fire."
"Yes, to you, my friend, who read them for the first time; but not for me who have grown pale over them by many nights' study, and have reconstructed every phrase, completed every thought."
"And do you believe you have discovered the concealed sense?"
"I am sure I have, and you shall judge for yourself; but, first listen to the history of this paper."
"Silence!" exclaimed Dantès." Steps approach — I go — adieu!"
And Dantès, happy to escape the history and explanation which could not fail to confirm to him his friend's malady, glided like a snake along the narrow passage; whilst Faria, restored by his alarm to a kind of activity, pushed with his foot the stone into its place, and covered it with a mat in order the more effectually to avoid discovery.
It was the governor, who, hearing of Faria's accident from the jailer, had come in person to see him.
Faria sat up to receive him, and continued to conceal from the governor the paralysis that had already half stricken him with death. His fear was lest the governor, touched with pity, might order him to be removed to a prison more wholesome, and thus separate him from his young companion. But, fortunately, this was not the case, and the governor left him, convinced that the poor madman, for whom in his heart he felt a kind of affection, was only affected with a slight indisposition.
During this time, Edmond, seated on his bed with his head in his hands, tried to collect his scattered thoughts. All was so rational, so grand, so logical with Faria, since he had known him, that he could not understand how so much wisdom on all points could be allied to madness in any one. Was Faria deceived as to his treasure, or was all the world deceived as to Faria?
Dantès remained in his cell all day, not daring to return to his friend, thinking thus to defer the moment when he should acquire the certainty that the abbé was mad—such a conviction would be so terrible!
But, toward the evening, after the usual visitation, Faria, not seeing the young man appear, tried to move and get over the distance which separated them. Edmond shuddered when he heard the painful efforts which the old man made to drag himself along; his leg was inert, and he could no longer make use of one arm. Edmond was compelled to draw him toward himself, for otherwise he could not enter by the small aperture which led to Dantès' chamber.
