grave-diggers, "two! three!" And at the same instant Dantes
felt himself flung into the air like a wounded bird,
falling, falling, with a rapidity that made his blood
curdle. Although drawn downwards by the heavy weight which
hastened his rapid descent, it seemed to him as if the fall
lasted for a century.

At last, with a horrible splash, he darted like an arrow
into the ice-cold water, and as he did so he uttered a
shrill cry, stifled in a moment by his immersion beneath the
waves.

Dantes had been flung into the sea, and was dragged into its
depths by a thirty-six pound shot tied to his feet. The sea
is the cemetery of the Chateau d'If.



Chapter 21
The Island of Tiboulen.

Dantes, although stunned and almost suffocated, had
sufficient presence of mind to hold his breath, and as his
right hand (prepared as he was for every chance) held his
knife open, he rapidly ripped up the sack, extricated his
arm, and then his body; but in spite of all his efforts to
free himself from the shot, he felt it dragging him down
still lower. He then bent his body, and by a desperate
effort severed the cord that bound his legs, at the moment
when it seemed as if he were actually strangled. With a