three days you will be like him, mad enough to tie up; but, fortunately, there are dungeons here.”
Dantès 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 Dantès, 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 prisoner to the tier beneath.”
“To the dungeon, then,” said the corporal.
“Yes; we must put the madman with the madmen.” The soldiers seized Dantès, who followed passively.
He descended fifteen steps, and the door of a dungeon was opened, and he was thrust in. The door closed, and Dantès advanced with outstretched hands until he touched the wall; he then sat down in the corner until his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The jailer was right; Dantès wanted but little of being utterly mad.