melted it, and so made oil—here is my lamp.” So saying, the abbé exhibited a sort of torch very similar to those used in public illuminations.
“But how do you procure a light?”
“Oh, here are two flints and a piece of burnt linen.”
“And matches?”
“I pretended that I had a disorder of the skin, and asked for a little sulphur, which was readily supplied.”
Dantès laid the different things he had been looking at on the table, and stood with his head drooping on his breast, as though overwhelmed by the perseverance and strength of Faria’s mind.
“You have not seen all yet,” continued Faria, “for I did not think it wise to trust all my treasures in the same hiding-place. Let us shut this one