The Count of Monte Cristo

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The stranger thus presenting himself was probably a person who, like
Franz, preferred the enjoyment of solitude and his own thoughts to
the frivolous gabble of the guides. And his appearance had nothing
extraordinary in it; but the hesitation with which he proceeded,
stopping and listening with anxious attention at every step he took,
convinced Franz that he expected the arrival of some person. By a sort
of instinctive impulse, Franz withdrew as much as possible behind his
pillar. About ten feet from the spot where he and the stranger were, the
roof had given way, leaving a large round opening, through which might
be seen the blue vault of heaven, thickly studded with stars. Around
this opening, which had, possibly, for ages permitted a free entrance
to the brilliant moonbeams that now illumined the vast pile, grew a
quantity of creeping plants, whose delicate green branches stood out in
bold relief against the clear azure of the firmament, while large masses
of thick, strong fibrous shoots forced their way through the chasm, and
hung floating to and fro, like so many waving strings. The person whose
mysterious arrival had attracted the attention of Franz stood in a kind