naught shall induce me to breathe one syllable to my jailers; but I
conjure you do not abandon me. If you do, I swear to you, for I have got
to the end of my strength, that I will dash my brains out against the
wall, and you will have my death to reproach yourself with."

"How old are you? Your voice is that of a young man."

"I do not know my age, for I have not counted the years I have been
here. All I do know is, that I was just nineteen when I was arrested,
the 28th of February, 1815."

"Not quite twenty-six!" murmured the voice; "at that age he cannot be a
traitor."

"Oh, no, no," cried Dantes. "I swear to you again, rather than betray
you, I would allow myself to be hacked in pieces!"

"You have done well to speak to me, and ask for my assistance, for I was
about to form another plan, and leave you; but your age reassures me. I
will not forget you. Wait."

"How long?"

"I must calculate our chances; I will give you the signal."

"But you will not leave me; you will come to me, or you will let me come
to you. We will escape, and if we cannot escape we will talk; you
of those whom you love, and I of those whom I love. You must love
somebody?"

"No, I am alone in the world."

"Then you will love me. If you are young, I will be your comrade; if you
are old, I will be your son. I have a father who is seventy if he yet
lives; I only love him and a young girl called Mercedes. My father has
not yet forgotten me, I am sure, but God alone knows if she loves me
still; I shall love you as I loved my father."

"It is well," returned the voice; "to-morrow."

These few words were uttered with an accent that left no doubt of his
sincerity; Dantes rose, dispersed the fragments with the same precaution
as before, and pushed his bed back against the wall. He then gave
himself up to his happiness. He would no longer be alone. He was,
perhaps, about to regain his liberty; at the worst, he would have a
companion, and captivity that is shared is but half captivity. Plaints
made in common are almost prayers, and prayers where two or three are
gathered together invoke the mercy of heaven.

All day Dantes walked up and down his cell. He sat down occasionally
on his bed, pressing his hand on his heart. At the slightest noise he
bounded towards the door. Once or twice the thought crossed his mind
that he might be separated from this unknown, whom he loved already; and
then his mind was made up--when the jailer moved his bed