ssing-room,
the count could see into the street.

Two hours passed thus. It was intensely dark; still Ali, thanks to his
wild nature, and the count, thanks doubtless to his long confinement,
could distinguish in the darkness the slightest movement of the trees.
The little light in the lodge had long been extinct. It might be
expected that the attack, if indeed an attack was projected, would be
made from the staircase of the ground floor, and not from a window; in
Monte Cristo's opinion, the villains sought his life, not his money. It
would be his bedroom they would attack, and they must reach it by the
back staircase, or by the window in the dressing-room. The clock of
the Invalides struck a quarter to twelve; the west wind bore on its
moistened gusts the doleful vibration of the three strokes.

As the last stroke died away, the count thought he heard a slight noise
in the dressing-room; this first sound, or rather this first grinding,
was followed by a second, then a third; at the fourth, the count knew
what to expect. A firm and well-practised hand was engaged in cutting
the four sides of a pane of glass with a diamond. The count felt his
heart beat more rapidly. Inured as men may be to danger, forewarned as
they may be of peril, they understand, by the fluttering of the heart
and the shuddering of the frame, the enormous difference between a dream
and a reality, between the project and the execution. However, Monte
Cristo only made a sign to apprise Ali, who, understanding that danger
was approaching from the other side, drew nearer to his master. Monte
Cristo was eager to ascertain the strength and number of his enemies.

The window whence the noise proceeded was opposite the opening by which
the count could see into the dressing-room. He fixed his eyes on that
window--he distinguished a shadow in the darkness; then one of the panes
became quite opaque, as if a sheet of paper were stuck on the outside,
then the square cracked without falling. Through the opening an arm was
passed to find the fastening, then a second; the window turned on its
hinges, and a man entered. He was alone.

"That's a daring rascal," whispered the count.

At that moment Ali touched him slightly on the shoulder. He turned; Ali
pointed to the window of the room in which they were, facing the street.
"I see!" said he, "there are two of them; one does the work while the
other stands guard." He made a sign to Ali not to lose sight of the man