The Count of Monte Cristo

Walking the Streets of Past Imprisonment

Acting on this resolve, Monte Cristo walks down the Rue de la Caisserie, the very street through which, twenty-four years earlier, he had been led by a silent and nocturnal guard. The houses, now smiling and animated by daylight, were on that long-ago night dark, mute, and closed. He murmurs that they were the same, only now illuminated by the sun rather than cloaked in night. He continues toward the quay by the Rue Saint-Laurent and advances to the Consigne, the point where he had originally embarked for the Château d’If.

Boat Ride to Château d’If

At the Consigne, Monte Cristo hails a passing pleasure-boat with a striped awning, whose owner eagerly rows toward him. The weather is magnificent, the excursion a treat: a red, flaming sun sinks into the welcoming ocean, the sea lies smooth as crystal, fish leap from the water, and on the horizon appear the white boats of fishermen and merchant vessels bound for Corsica or Spain. Yet, despite the serenity and beauty of the scene, the Count, wrapped in his cloak, can think only of the terrible voyage he is retracing.

Recalling the Original Imprisonment Voyage

As the boat carries him onward, the details of his original imprisonment voyage return one by one to Monte Cristo’s memory. He recalls the solitary light burning at the Catalans, his first sight of the Château d’If, his violent struggle with the gendarmes when he tried to throw himself overboard, his despair at being vanquished, and the awful sensation of a carbine muzzle touching his forehead. Like dried-up streams replenished by autumnal storms, his heart fills once more with the bitterness that once nearly overwhelmed Edmond Dantès, and the serene sky and brilliant sunshine seem to give way to black heavens and the phantom of the Château d’If looming like a mortal enemy. When they reach the landing, he shrinks instinctively to the far end of the boat, startled by the boatman’s gentle announcement of their arrival.