A full year had passed since the old king had been restored to power. In the depths of the Château d’If prison fortress, a governnt inspector arrived for his routine visit.
Even buried in the lowest dungeons, Dantès could hear the unusual sounds of preparation echoing through the stone corridors, sounds that only a prisoner’s desperately attuned ears could detect, the sa ears that had learned to mark ti by the single drop of water that fell from his cell ceiling every hour.
Sothing was different today. After so many months of complete isolation from the outside world, Dantès had begun to feel more dead than alive.
The inspector made his rounds through the upper levels first, visiting prisoners whose good behavior had earned them slightly better treatnt. His questions were always the sa, "How’s the food? Do you have any requests?"
The answers were predictably identical, "The food is terrible, and we want our freedom."
When asked if they needed anything else, the prisoners just shook their heads. What could matter more than liberty?
The inspector turned to the prison warden with a weary smile. "I don’t understand why the governnt bothers with these visits. One prisoner is like all the others, underfed and claiming innocence. Are there any more?"
"Yes, sir. The dangerous and ntally unstable ones are kept in the lower dungeons."
"Let’s get this over with," the inspector sighed. "We need to complete the full inspection. Show these dungeons."
"We should bring guards," the warden warned. "These prisoners sotis beco violent, whether from desperation or genuine madness. They might attack you just to get themselves executed."
"Whatever precautions you think necessary."
Two ard soldiers joined them as they descended a staircase so foul and dark it assaulted every sense. The air was thick with moisture and decay.
"Dear God," the inspector gasped, "how can anyone survive down here?"
"We have one extrely dangerous political prisoner," the warden explained. "A conspirator we’re ordered to watch very carefully. He’s both cunning and completely ruthless."
"He’s alone?"
"Absolutely."
"How long has he been here?"
"Almost a year now."
"Was he placed in this dungeon imdiately?"
"No, not until he tried to murder the guard who brought his food."
"Murder the guard?"
"Yes, the sa guard who’s lighting our way now. Isn’t that right, Antoine?"
The guard nodded grimly. "He definitely tried to kill ."
"He must be insane," the inspector concluded.
"Worse than insane, he’s pure evil," the guard muttered.
"Should I file a complaint against him?"
"No point. He’s almost completely mad now anyway. Give him another year and he’ll be completely gone."
"Perhaps that’s a rcy," the inspector said thoughtfully. "Madness might be less suffering for him." Despite the harsh environnt, he was genuinely concerned about prisoner welfare.
"You’re absolutely right, sir," the warden agreed. "Your compassion shows real understanding of these situations. Now, about twenty feet away down another staircase, we have an old priest who was so kind of political leader in Italy. He’s been here since 1811, and in 1813 he went completely mad. The transformation was remarkable, he used to cry constantly, now he laughs. He used to be skeletal, now he’s gotten fat. You should see him, his madness is almost entertaining."
"I’ll see them both," the inspector replied. "I need to be thorough." This was his first inspection, and he wanted to demonstrate his authority properly.
"Let’s start with this one."
"Of course." The warden signaled for the guard to unlock the cell door.
At the sound of the key turning and the hinges creaking, Dantès looked up from the corner where he’d been crouched. Through the narrow iron grating above, he could see torchlight flickering. When he spotted a well-dressed stranger accompanied by guards and soldiers, soone important enough that the warden removed his hat in respect, Dantès realized this might be his only chance to appeal to higher authority.
He sprang forward, hands clasped in desperate prayer.
The soldiers imdiately raised their weapons, thinking he was attacking. The inspector stumbled backward several steps. Seeing their reaction, Dantès understood how dangerous they considered him. He forced every ounce of humility he could muster into his voice and expression, trying to inspire pity rather than fear.
The inspector listened carefully, then turned to the warden. "He’s becoming religious, much more subdued now. See how he retreated from the weapons? Truly insane people aren’t afraid of anything. I observed this phenonon extensively at the Charenton asylum." Then, addressing the prisoner directly, "What do you want?"
"I want to know what cri I’m accused of. I want a trial. If I’m guilty, execute . If I’m innocent, set free."
"Are you being fed adequately?"
"I suppose so, I don’t really know anymore. But that’s not what matters! What matters to , to justice, and to the king himself, is that an innocent man shouldn’t waste away in prison, the victim of false accusations, dying here while cursing his executioners."
"You’re quite humble today," the warden observed. "You weren’t so respectful when you tried to kill the guard."
"That’s true, sir, and I apologize to him, he’s always treated well. But I was mad then."
"And you’re not mad now?"
"No. This captivity has broken . I’ve been here so long."
"So long? When exactly were you arrested?" the inspector asked.
"February 28th, 1815, at exactly 2:30 in the afternoon."
"Today is July 30th, 1816. That’s only seventeen months."
"Only seventeen months?" Dantès repeated in anguish. "Sir, you have no idea what seventeen months ans in prison! Seventeen lifetis! Especially for a man like , who was at the peak of his success, about to marry the woman I loved, with an honorable career opening before . I lost everything in an instant.
My future destroyed, not knowing if my fiancée is alive or dead, not knowing if my elderly father still lives! Seventeen months of captivity for a sailor accustod to the boundless ocean is a punishnt worse than any human cri deserves. Please have rcy, I don’t ask for clency, just a trial! Surely that can’t be denied to soone who’s been accused!"
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