The Count of Monte Cristo

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a lighted slowmatch in his hand, and he had orders to blow up
everything--kiosk, guards, women, gold, and Ali Tepelini himself--at
the first signal given by my father. I remember well that the slaves,
convinced of the precarious tenure on which they held their lives,
passed whole days and nights in praying, crying, and groaning. As for
me, I can never forget the pale complexion and black eyes of the young
soldier, and whenever the angel of death summons me to another world,
I am quite sure I shall recognize Selim. I cannot tell you how long we
remained in this state; at that period I did not even know what time
meant. Sometimes, but very rarely, my father summoned me and my mother
to the terrace of the palace; these were hours of recreation for me, as
I never saw anything in the dismal cavern but the gloomy countenances of
the slaves and Selim's fiery lance. My father was endeavoring to pierce
with his eager looks the remotest verge of the horizon, examining
attentively every black speck which appeared on the lake, while my
mother, reclining by his side, rested her head on his shoulder, and I
played at his feet, admiring everything I saw with that unsophisticated