"In spite of M. de Villefort's promises?"
"I do not know what M. de Villefort promised you," said the gendarme, "but I know we are taking you to the Château d'If. But what are you doing? — Help! comrades, help!"
By a rapid movement, which the gendarme's practiced eye had perceived, Dantès sprang forward to precipitate himself into the sea; but four vigorous arms seized him as his feet quitted the flooring of the boat. He fell back, foaming with rage.
"Good!" said the gendarme, placing his knee on his chest; "this is the way you keep your word as a sailor! Believe soft-spoken gentlemen again! Hark ye, my friend, I have disobeyed my first order, but I will not disobey the second; and if you move, I lodge a bullet in your brain."
And he leveled his carbine at Dantès, who felt the muzzle touch his head.
For a moment the idea of struggling crossed his mind, and of thus ending the unexpected evil that had overtaken him. But just because it was unexpected, he believed it would not last long, and he bethought him of Villefort's promise; and, besides, death in a boat from the hand of a gendarme seemed too repulsive. He remained motionless, but gnashing his teeth with fury.
At this moment a violent shock made the bark tremble. One of the sailors leaped on the rock which the bow had just touched, a cord creaked as it ran through a pulley, and Dantès guessed they were at the end of the voyage and mooring the boat.
His guardians, taking hold of his arms and collar, forced him to rise and land, and dragged him toward the steps that lead to the gate of the fortress, whilst the exempt followed, armed with a carbine and bayonet.
Dantès made no resistance; he was dazed and tottering like a drunken man; he saw soldiers who stationed themselves on the sides; he felt himself forced up fresh stairs; he perceived he passed through a door, and the door closed behind him; but all this as mechanically as through a mist, nothing distinctly. He did not even see the sea, that terror of prisoners who regard its expanse with the awful feeling that they cannot cross it.
They halted for a minute, during which he strove to collect his thoughts. He looked around: he was in a square court surrounded by four high walls; he heard the measured tread of sentinels, and as they passed before the light reflected on the walls from two or three lamps in the interior of the fortress, he saw the barrels of their muskets shine.
They waited upward of ten minutes. Certain Dantès could not
