"Why, you poor short-sighted simpleton, can you not guess who this Noirtier was, whose very name he was so careful to keep concealed? Noirtier was his father."Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Dantes, or hell opened its yawning gulf before him, he could not have been more completely transfixed with horror than he was at the sound of these unexpected words.Starting up, he clasped his hands around his head as though to prevent his very brain from bursting, and exclaimed, "His father! his father!""Yes, his father," replied the abbe; "his right name was Noirtier de Villefort." At this instant a bright light shot through the mind of Dantes, and cleared up all that had been dark and obscure before.The change that had come over Villefort during the examination, the destruction of the letter, the exacted promise, the almost supplicating tones of the magistrate, who seemed rather to implore mercy than to pronounce punishment, -- all returned with a stunning force to his memory.He cried out, and staggered against the wall like a drunken man, then he hurried to the opening that led from the abbe's cell to his own, and said, "I must be alone, to think over all this."When he regained his dungeon, he threw himself on his bed, where the turnkey found him in the evening visit, sitting with fixed gaze and contracted features, dumb and motionless as a statue.During these hours of profound meditation, which to him had seemed only minutes, he had formed a fearful resolution, and bound himself to its fulfilment by a solemn oath.
Dantes was at length roused from his revery by the voice of Faria, who, having also been visited by his jailer, had come to invite his fellow-sufferer to share his supper.The reputation of being out of his mind, though harmlessly and even amusingly so, had procured for the abbe unusual privileges.He was supplied with bread of a finer, whiter quality than the usual prison fare, and even regaled each Sunday with a small quantity of wine.Now this was a Sunday, and the abbe had come to ask his young companion to share the luxuries with him.Dantes followed; his features were no longer contracted, and now wore their usual expression, but there was that in his whole appearance that bespoke one who had come to a fixed and desperate resolve.Faria bent on him his penetrating eye: "I regret now," said he, "having helped you in your late inquiries, or having given you the information I did.""Why so?" inquired Dantes.
"Because it has instilled a new passion in your heart --that of vengeance."
Dantes smiled."Let us talk of something else," said he.
Again the abbe looked at him, then mournfully shook his head; but in accordance with Dantes' request, he began to speak of other matters.The elder prisoner was one of those persons whose conversation, like that of all who have experienced many trials, contained many useful and important hints as well as sound information; but it was never egotistical, for the unfortunate man never alluded to his own sorrows.Dantes listened with admiring attention to all he said; some of his remarks corresponded with what he already knew, or applied to the sort of knowledge his nautical life had enabled him to acquire.A part of the good abbe's words, however, were wholly incomprehensible to him;but, like the aurora which guides the navigator in northern latitudes, opened new vistas to the inquiring mind of the listener, and gave fantastic glimpses of new horizons, enabling him justly to estimate the delight an intellectual mind would have in following one so richly gifted as Faria along the heights of truth, where he was so much at home.
"You must teach me a small part of what you know," said Dantes, "if only to prevent your growing weary of me.I can well believe that so learned a person as yourself would prefer absolute solitude to being tormented with the company of one as ignorant and uninformed as myself.If you will only agree to my request, I promise you never to mention another word about escaping." The abbe smiled."Alas, my boy," said he, "human knowledge is confined within very narrow limits; and when I have taught you mathematics, physics, history, and the three or four modern languages with which I am acquainted, you will know as much as I do myself.Now, it will scarcely require two years for me to communicate to you the stock of learning I possess.""Two years!" exclaimed Dantes; "do you really believe I can acquire all these things in so short a time?""Not their application, certainly, but their principles you may; to learn is not to know; there are the learners and the learned.Memory makes the one, philosophy the other.""But cannot one learn philosophy?"