The Count of Monte Cristo

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issued the consoling sound he had before heard. He again struck it, and
with greater force. Then a singular thing occurred. As he struck the
wall, pieces of stucco similar to that used in the ground work of
arabesques broke off, and fell to the ground in flakes, exposing a large
white stone. The aperture of the rock had been closed with stones, then
this stucco had been applied, and painted to imitate granite. Dantes
struck with the sharp end of his pickaxe, which entered someway between
the interstices. It was there he must dig. But by some strange play of
emotion, in proportion as the proofs that Faria, had not been
deceived became stronger, so did his heart give way, and a feeling of
discouragement stole over him. This last proof, instead of giving him
fresh strength, deprived him of it; the pickaxe descended, or rather
fell; he placed it on the ground, passed his hand over his brow, and
remounted the stairs, alleging to himself, as an excuse, a desire to
be assured that no one was watching him, but in reality because he felt
that he was about to faint. The island was deserted, and the sun seemed
to cover it with its fiery glance; afar off, a few small fishing boats