It was easy to ascertain this; but how could he risk the question?
It was easy to call his jailer’s attention to the noise, and watch his countenance as he listened; but might he not by this means destroy hopes far more important than the short-lived satisfaction of his own curiosity?
Unfortunately, Edmond’s brain was still so feeble that he could not bend his thoughts to anything in particular. He saw but one means of restoring lucidity and clearness to his judgment. He turned his eyes towards the soup which the jailer had brought, rose, staggered towards it, raised the vessel to his lips, and drank off the contents with a feeling of indescribable pleasure.
He had the resolution to stop with this. He had often heard that shipwrecked persons had died through having eagerly devoured too much food.
Edmond replaced on the table the bread he was about to devour, and returned to his couch—he did not wish to die.
He soon felt that his ideas became again collected—he could think, and strengthen his thoughts by reasoning. Then he said to himself:
“I must put this to the test, but without compromising anybody. If it is a workman, I need but knock against the wall, and he will cease to work, in order to find out who is knocking, and why he does so; but as his occupation is sanctioned by the governor, he will soon resume it. If, on the contrary, it is a prisoner, the noise I make will alarm him, he will cease, and not begin again until he thinks everyone is asleep.”
Edmond rose again, but this time his legs did not tremble, and his sight was clear; he went to a corner of his dungeon, detached a stone, and with it knocked against the wall where the sound came. He struck thrice.
At the first blow the sound ceased, as if by magic.