land. The gloomy building rose from the bosom of the ocean
with imposing majesty and seemed to dominate the scene. It
was about five o'clock. The sea continued to get calmer.

"In two or three hours," thought Dantes, "the turnkey will
enter my chamber, find the body of my poor friend, recognize
it, seek for me in vain, and give the alarm. Then the tunnel
will be discovered; the men who cast me into the sea and who
must have heard the cry I uttered, will be questioned. Then
boats filled with armed soldiers will pursue the wretched
fugitive. The cannon will warn every one to refuse shelter
to a man wandering about naked and famished. The police of
Marseilles will be on the alert by land, whilst the governor
pursues me by sea. I am cold, I am hungry. I have lost even
the knife that saved me. O my God, I have suffered enough
surely! Have pity on me, and do for me what I am unable to
do for myself."

As Dantes (his eyes turned in the direction of the Chateau
d'If) uttered this prayer, he saw off the farther point of
the Island of Pomegue a small vessel with lateen sail
skimming the sea like a gull in search of prey; and with his
sailor's eye he knew it to be a Genoese tartan. She was
coming out of Marseilles harbor, and was standing out to sea
rapidly, her sharp prow cleaving through the waves. "Oh,"
cried Edmond, "to think that in half an hour I could join
her, did I not fear being questioned, detected, and conveyed
back to Marseilles! What can I do? What story can I invent?
under pretext of trading along the coast, these men, who are
in reality smugglers, will prefer selling me to doing a good