The Count of Monte Cristo

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he hears low cries perpetually ringing in his ears. Two hours passed
thus, during which I imagined I heard moans repeatedly. Midnight struck.
As the last stroke died away, I saw a faint light shine through the
windows of the private staircase by which we have just descended. The
door opened, and the man in the mantle reappeared. The terrible moment
had come, but I had so long been prepared for it that my heart did not
fail in the least. I drew my knife from my pocket again, opened it, and
made ready to strike. The man in the mantle advanced towards me, but as
he drew near I saw that he had a weapon in his hand. I was afraid, not
of a struggle, but of a failure. When he was only a few paces from me,
I saw that what I had taken for a weapon was only a spade. I was still
unable to divine for what reason M. de Villefort had this spade in his
hands, when he stopped close to the thicket where I was, glanced round,
and began to dig a hole in the earth. I then perceived that he was
hiding something under his mantle, which he laid on the grass in order
to dig more freely. Then, I confess, curiosity mingled with hatred;
I wished to see what Villefort was going to do there, and I remained