isited by his jailer, had come to invite his
fellow-sufferer to share his supper. The reputation of being out of his
mind, though harmlessly and even amusingly so, had procured for the
abbe unusual privileges. He was supplied with bread of a finer, whiter
quality than the usual prison fare, and even regaled each Sunday with a
small quantity of wine. Now this was a Sunday, and the abbe had come to
ask his young companion to share the luxuries with him. Dantes followed;
his features were no longer contracted, and now wore their usual
expression, but there was that in his whole appearance that bespoke one
who had come to a fixed and desperate resolve. Faria bent on him his
penetrating eye: "I regret now," said he, "having helped you in your
late inquiries, or having given you the information I did."

"Why so?" inquired Dantes.

"Because it has instilled a new passion in your heart--that of
vengeance."

Dantes smiled. "Let us talk of something else," said he.

Again the abbe looked at him, then mournfully shook his head; but in
accordance with Dantes' request, he began to speak of other matters. The
elder prisoner was one of those persons whose conversation, like that
of all who have experienced many trials, contained many useful
and important hints as well as sound information; but it was never
egotistical, for the unfortunate man never alluded to his own sorrows.
Dantes listened with admiring attention to all he said; some of his
remarks corresponded with what he already knew, or applied to the sort
of knowledge his nautical life had enabled him to acquire. A part of the
good abbe's words, however, were wholly incomprehensible to him; but,
like the aurora which guides the navigator in northern latitudes, opened
new vistas to the inquiring mind of the listener, and gave fantastic
glimpses of new horizons, enabling him justly to estimate the delight an
intellectual mind would have in following one so richly gifted as Faria
along the heights of truth, where he was so much at home.

"You must teach me a small part of what you know," said Dantes, "if only
to prevent your growing weary of me. I can well believe that so learned
a person as yourself would prefer absolute solitude to being tormented
with the company of one as ignorant and uninformed as myself. If you
will only agree to my request, I promise you never to mention another
word about escaping." The abbe smiled. "Alas, my boy," said he, "human
knowledge is confine