The Count of Monte Cristo

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Scarcely had a few seconds elapsed, ere he saw everything as distinctly
as by daylight. Then he looked around him, and really recognized his
dungeon.

"Yes," he said, "there is the stone upon which I used to sit; there is
the impression made by my shoulders on the wall; there is the mark of
my blood made when one day I dashed my head against the wall. Oh, those
figures, how well I remember them! I made them one day to calculate
the age of my father, that I might know whether I should find him still
living, and that of Mercedes, to know if I should find her still free.
After finishing that calculation, I had a minute's hope. I did not
reckon upon hunger and infidelity!" and a bitter laugh escaped the
count. He saw in fancy the burial of his father, and the marriage of
Mercedes. 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,'" he read, "'preserve my memory!' Oh, yes," he cried, "that was
my only prayer at last; I no longer begged for liberty, but memory;