The gendarme scratched his ear and looked irresolutely at his companion, who returned for answer a sign that said, "I see no great harm in telling him now," and the gendarme replied:
"You are a native of Marseilles, and a sailor, and yet you do not know where you are going?"
"On my honor, I have no idea."
"And you cannot guess?"
"I cannot."
"That is impossible."
"I swear to you it is true. Tell me, I entreat."
"But my orders."
"Your orders do not forbid your telling me what I must know in ten minutes, in half an hour, or an hour. You will merely spare me ages of uncertainty. I ask you as if you were my friend. You see I cannot escape, even if I intended."
"Unless you are blind, or have never been outside the harbor, you must know."
"I do not."
"Look round you then."
Dantès rose and looked forward, when he saw rise within a hundred yards of him the black and frowning rock on which stands the Château d'If.
This strange mass, this prison around which such deep terror reigns, this fortress that for three hundred years has filled Marseilles with its gloomy traditions, appearing thus suddenly to Dantès, who was not thinking about it, seemed to him what the scaffold seems to the condemned prisoner.
"The Château d'If?" cried he, "what are we going there for?"
The gendarme smiled.
"I am not going there to be imprisoned," said Dantes; "it is only used for political prisoners. I have committed no crime. Are there any magistrates or judges at the Château d'If?"
"There are only," said the gendarme, "a governor, a garrison, turnkeys, and good thick walls. Come, come, do not look so astonished, or you will make me think you are laughing at me in return for my good nature."
Dantès pressed the gendarme's hand as though he would crush it.
"You think, then," said he, "that I am conducted to the château to be imprisoned there?"
"It is probable; but there is no occasion to squeeze so hard."
"Without any further formality?"
"All the formalities have been gone through."
