y me by repeating the same thing, I will not bring you any
more to eat."

"Well, then," said Edmond, "if you do not, I shall die of hunger--that
is all."

The jailer saw by his tone he would be happy to die; and as every
prisoner is worth ten sous a day to his jailer, he replied in a more
subdued tone.

"What you ask is impossible; but if you are very well behaved you will
be allowed to walk about, and some day you will meet the governor, and
if he chooses to reply, that is his affair."

"But," asked Dantes, "how long shall I have to wait?"

"Ah, a month--six months--a year."

"It is too long a time. I wish to see him at once."

"Ah," said the jailer, "do not always brood over what is impossible, or
you will be mad in a fortnight."

"You think so?"

"Yes; we have an instance here; it was by always offering a million of
francs to the governor for his liberty that an abbe became mad, who was
in this chamber before you."

"How long has he left it?"

"Two years."

"Was he liberated, then?"

"No; he was put in a dungeon."

"Listen!" said Dantes. "I am not an abbe, I am not mad; perhaps I shall
be, but at present, unfortunately, I am not. I will make you another
offer."

"What is that?"

"I do not offer you a million, because I have it not; but I will give
you a hundred crowns if, the first time you go to Marseilles, you will
seek out a young girl named Mercedes, at the Catalans, and give her two
lines from me."

"If I took them, and were detected, I should lose my place, which is
worth two thousand francs a year; so that I should be a great fool to
run such a risk for three hundred."

"Well," said Dantes, "mark this; if you refuse at least to tell Mercedes
I am here, I will some day hide myself behind the door, and when you
enter I will dash out your brains with this stool."

"Threats!" cried the jailer, retreating and putting himself on the
defensive; "you are certainly going mad. The abbe began like you, and in
three days you will be like him, mad enough to tie up; but, fortunately,
there are dungeons here." Dantes whirled the stool round his head.

"All right, all right," said the jailer; "all right, since you will have
it so. I will send word to the governor."

"Very well," returned Dantes, dropping the stool and sitting on it as if
he were in reality mad. The jailer went out, and returned in an instant
with a corporal and four soldiers.

"By the governor's orders," said he, "conduct the pr