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And they all regarded with astonishment this man, whose eye had recovered an intelligence and his body a vigor they were far from suspecting.

“You see,” said Dantes, quitting the helm, “I shall be of some use to you, at least, during the voyage. If you do not want me at Leghorn, you can leave me there, and I will pay you out of the first wages I get for my food and the clothes you lend me.”

" Ah," said the captain, “ we can agree very well if you are reasonable.”

“Give me what you give the others, and all will be arranged,” returned Dantes.

“That's not fair," said the seaman who had saved Dantes, “ for you know more than we do.”

“ What is that to you, Jacopo?” returned the captain. “ Every one is free to ask what he pleases."

“ That's true,” replied Jacopo. “I only made a remark.”

“Well, you would do much better to lend him a jacket and a pair of trousers, if you have them." ”

“No,” said Jacopo; “but I have a shirt and a pair of trousers.”

“That is all I want,” interrupted Dantes.

Jacopo dived into the hold, and soon returned with what Edmond wanted.

“ Now, then, do you wish for anything else?” said the patron.

“ A piece of bread and another glass of the capital rum I tasted, for I have not eaten or drunk for a long time."

He had not tasted food for forty hours.

A piece of bread was brought, and Jacopo offered him the gourd.

“ Larboard your helm,” cried the captain to the steersman.

Dantes glanced to the same side as he lifted the gourd to his mouth; but his hand stopped.

“ Halloa ! what's the matter at the Chateau d'If?" said the captain.

A small white cloud, which had attracted Dantes' attention, crowned the summit of the bastion of the Chateau d'If.

At the same moment the faint report of a gun was heard. The sailors looked at one another.

“ What is this?” asked the captain.

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“A prisoner has escaped from the Chateau d'If, and they are firing the alarm gun,” replied Dantes.

The captain glanced at him, but he had lifted the rum to his lips, and was drinking it with so much composure that his suspicions, if he had any, died away.

“At any rate," murmured he, “if it be, so much the better, for I have made a rare acquisition.”

Under pretense of being fatigued, Dantes asked to take the helm ; the steersman, enchanted to be relieved, looked at the captain, and the latter by a sign indicated that he might abandon it to his new comrade. Dantes could thus keep his eyes on Marseilles.

“What is the day of the month ?” asked he of Jacopo, who sat down beside him.

“ The 28th of February !” “ In what year?” “In what year — you ask me in what year ?” “Yes,” replied the young man, “ I ask you in what year!”

“ “Have you forgotten, then ?”

“I have been so frightened last night,” replied Dantes, smiling, “that I have almost lost my memory. I asked you what

year is it?"

“ The year 1829,” returned Jacopo.
It was fourteen years, day for day, since Dantes' arrest.

He was nineteen when he entered the Chateau d'If; he was thirty-three when he escaped.

A sorrowful smile passed over his face ; he asked himself what had become of Mercedes, who must believe him dead.

Then his eyes lighted up with hatred as he thought of the three men who had caused him so long and wretched a captivity.

He renewed against Danglars, Fernand, and Villefort the oath of implacable vengeance he had made in his dungeon.

This oath was no longer a vain menace, for the fastest sailer in the Mediterranean would have been unable to overtake the little tartane, that with every stitch of canvas set was flying before the wind to Leghorn.



I REMEMBER, I remember

The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun

Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,

Nor brought too long a day; -
But now I often wish the night

Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember

The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily cups,

Those flowers made of light;
The lilacs where the robin built,

And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday,

The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,

Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then

That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember

The fir trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from heaven

Than when I was a boy.

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