know in ten
minutes, in half an hour, or an hour. You see I cannot escape, even if I
intended."

"Unless you are blind, or have never been outside the harbor, you must
know."

"I do not."

"Look round you then." Dantes rose and looked forward, when he saw
rise within a hundred yards of him the black and frowning rock on which
stands the Chateau d'If. This gloomy fortress, which has for more than
three hundred years furnished food for so many wild legends, seemed to
Dantes like a scaffold to a malefactor.

"The Chateau d'If?" cried he, "what are we going there for?" The
gendarme smiled.

"I am not going there to be imprisoned," said Dantes; "it is only
used for political prisoners. I have committed no crime. Are there any
magistrates or judges at the Chateau d'If?"

"There are only," said the gendarme, "a governor, a garrison, turnkeys,
and good thick walls. Come, come, do not look so astonished, or you
will make me think you are laughing at me in return for my good nature."
Dantes pressed the gendarme's hand as though he would crush it.

"You think, then," said he, "that I am taken to the Chateau d'If to be
imprisoned there?"

"It is probable; but there is no occasion to squeeze so hard."

"Without any inquiry, without any formality?"

"All the formalities have been gone through; the inquiry is already
made."

"And so, in spite of M. de Villefort's promises?"

"I do not know what M. de Villefort promised you," said the gendarme,
"but I know we are taking you to the Chateau d'If. But what are you
doing? Help, comrades, help!"

By a rapid movement, which the gendarme's practiced eye had perceived,
Dantes sprang forward to precipitate himself into the sea; but four
vigorous arms seized him as his feet quitted the bottom of the boat. He
fell back cursing with rage.

"Good!" said the gendarme, placing his knee on his chest; "believe
soft-spoken gentlemen again! Harkye, my friend, I have disobeyed my
first order, but I will not disobey the second; and if you move, I will
blow your brains out." And he levelled his carbine at Dantes, who felt
the muzzle against his temple.

For a moment the idea of struggling crossed his mind, and of so ending
the unexpected evil that had overtaken him. But he bethought him of M.
de Villefort's promise; and, besides, death in a boat from the hand of
a gendarme seemed too terrible. He remained motionless, but gnashing his
teeth and wringing his hands with fury.

At this mo