The Count of Monte Cristo

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hastened to his dungeon, where he found him standing in the middle of
the room, pale as death, his forehead streaming with perspiration, and
his hands clinched tightly together.

"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Dantes, "what is the matter? what has
happened?"

"Quick! quick!" returned the abbe, "listen to what I have to say."
Dantes looked in fear and wonder at the livid countenance of Faria,
whose eyes, already dull and sunken, were surrounded by purple circles,
while his lips were white as those of a corpse, and his very hair seemed
to stand on end.

"Tell me, I beseech you, what ails you?" cried Dantes, letting his
chisel fall to the floor.

"Alas," faltered out the abbe, "all is over with me. I am seized with a