Notes From Chapter 113

Monte Cristo

Having reached the summit of his vengeance by a long and tortuous path,

He saw an abyss of doubt yawning before him

More than this,

The conversation which had just taken place between Mercedes and himself

Had awakened so many recollections in his heart that

He felt it necessary to combat them.

A man of the count’s temperament could not long indulge

In that melancholy which can exist in common minds,

But which destroys superior ones.

He thought he must have made an error in his calculations,

If he now found cause to blame himself.

Great truth, fire cannot burn, nor water drown it!

Thus the poor sailor lives in the recollection of those who narrate his history;

His terrible story is recited in the chimney-corner, and a shudder is felt at the description

Of his transit through the air to be swallowed by the deep.

Was his name ever known?

Oh, yes; but only as 34.

(the poor Abbe – ah, no. 27)

On the other side of the dungeon he perceived an inscription, the white letters of which were still visible on the green wall. “O God preserve my memory!”

That was my only prayer at last; I no longer begged for liberty, but memory;

I dreaded to become mad and forgetful.

O God, thou has preserved my memory; I thank thee, I thank thee!

But I have something left, a sort of book, written upon strips of cloth

Upon which the Abbe Faria had spread the riches of his mind

Darling has not the count just told us that all human wisdom is summed up in two words? – ‘Wait and hope.”