ler might,
when he brought the evening meal, believe that he was asleep, as was
his frequent custom; entered the tunnel again, drew the bed against the
wall, returned to the other cell, took from the hiding-place the needle
and thread, flung off his rags, that they might feel only naked flesh
beneath the coarse canvas, and getting inside the sack, placed himself
in the posture in which the dead body had been laid, and sewed up the
mouth of the sack from the inside.

He would have been discovered by the beating of his heart, if by any
mischance the jailers had entered at that moment. Dantes might have
waited until the evening visit was over, but he was afraid that the
governor would change his mind, and order the dead body to be removed
earlier. In that case his last hope would have been destroyed. Now his
plans were fully made, and this is what he intended to do. If while he
was being carried out the grave-diggers should discover that they were
bearing a live instead of a dead body, Dantes did not intend to give
them time to recognize him, but with a sudden cut of the knife, he meant
to open the sack from top to bottom, and, profiting by their alarm,
escape; if they tried to catch him, he would use his knife to better
purpose.

If they took him to the cemetery and laid him in a grave, he would
allow himself to be covered with earth, and then, as it was night, the
grave-diggers could scarcely have turned their backs before he would
have worked his way through the yielding soil and escaped. He hoped that
the weight of earth would not be so great that he could not overcome it.
If he was detected in this and the earth proved too heavy, he would be
stifled, and then--so much the better, all would be over. Dantes had not
eaten since the preceding evening, but he had not thought of hunger, nor
did he think of it now. His situation was too precarious to allow him
even time to reflect on any thought but one.

The first risk that Dantes ran was, that the jailer, when he brought
him his supper at seven o'clock, might perceive the change that had been
made; fortunately, twenty times at least, from misanthropy or fatigue,
Dantes had received his jailer in bed, and then the man placed his bread
and soup on the table, and went away without saying a word. This time
the jailer might not be as silent as usual, but speak to Dantes, and
seeing that he received no reply, go to the bed, and thus discover all.

When seven o'clock came, Da