Page:The Count of Monte-Cristo (1887 Volume 1).djvu/231

Rh aged to reach the abbé's chamber, when he immediately laid the sufferer on his bed.

"Thanks!" said the poor abbé, shivering in every limb as though emerging from freezing water; "I am seized with a fit of catalepsy; I may, probably, lie still and motionless, uttering neither sigh nor groan. I may fall into convulsions that cover my lips with foam and force from me piercing shrieks. Let no one hear my cries, for if they are heard I should be removed to another part of the prison, and we be separated forever. When I become quite motionless, cold, and rigid as a corpse, then, and not before, you understand, force open my teeth with a chisel, pour from eight to ten drops of the liquor contained in the phial down my throat, and I may perhaps revive."

"Perhaps!" exclaimed Dantès in grief-stricken tones.

"Help! help!" cried the abbe, "I—I—die—I"

So sudden and violent was the fit, that the unfortunate prisoner was unable to complete the sentence begun; a cloud came over his brow, dark as a storm at sea, his eyes started from their sockets, his mouth was drawn on one side, his cheeks became purple, he struggled, foamed, and uttered dreadful cries, which Dantès deadened by covering his head with the blanket. The fit lasted two hours; then, more helpless than an infant, and colder and paler than marble, more broken than a reed trampled under foot, he fell, stiffened with a last convulsion, and became livid.

Edmond waited till life seemed extinct in the body of his friend; then, taking up the chisel, he with difficulty forced open the closely fixed jaws, carefully poured the appointed number of drops down the rigid throat, and anxiously awaited the result. An hour passed away without the old man's giving the least sign of returning animation. Dantès began to fear he had delayed too long ere he administered the remedy, and, thrusting his hands into his hair, continued gazing on his friend in an agony of despair. At length a slight color tinged the cheeks, consciousness returned to the dull, open eyeballs, a faint sigh issued from the lips, and the sufferer made a feeble effort to move.

"He is saved! he is saved!" cried Dantès, in a paroxysm of delight. The sick man was not yet able to speak, but he pointed with evident anxiety toward the door. Dantès listened, and plainly distinguished the approaching steps of the jailer. It was therefore near seven o'clock; but Edmond's anxiety had put all thoughts of time out of his head.

The young man sprang to the entrance, darted through it, carefully drawing the stone over the opening, and hurried to his cell. He had scarcely done so before the door opened and disclosed to the jailer's inquisitorial gaze the prisoner seated as usual on the side of his bed.