The Count of Monte Cristo

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gathered together invoke the mercy of heaven.

All day Dantes walked up and down his cell. He sat down occasionally
on his bed, pressing his hand on his heart. At the slightest noise he
bounded towards the door. Once or twice the thought crossed his mind
that he might be separated from this unknown, whom he loved already; and
then his mind was made up--when the jailer moved his bed and stooped to
examine the opening, he would kill him with his water jug. He would be
condemned to die, but he was about to die of grief and despair when this
miraculous noise recalled him to life.

The jailer came in the evening. Dantes was on his bed. It seemed to him
that thus he better guarded the unfinished opening. Doubtless there was
a strange expression in his eyes, for the jailer said, "Come, are you
going mad again?"

Dantes did not answer; he feared that the emotion of his voice would