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Updated: June 3, 2025
The first foreign book read by Rizal, in a Spanish translation, was Dumas's great novel, "The Count of Monte Cristo," and the story of the wrongs suffered by the prisoner of the Château d'If recalled the injustice done his mother.
A desperate follower of the star of Austerlitz from his youth, a martyr to the cause in the Chateau d'If, Monte Cristo has not deserted it now that he has come into his own or anybody else's. Of course I was after him like a shot. He walked down Kingsgate Street and took a four-wheeler that was loitering at the corner.
"Hollo! what's the matter at the Chateau d'If?" said the captain. A small white cloud, which had attracted Dantes' attention, crowned the summit of the bastion of the Chateau d'If. At the same moment the faint report of a gun was heard. The sailors looked at one another. "What is this?" asked the captain.
In that case, what do you say if we run over and see the Chateau d'If the place that Dumas made famous, you know?" "Is it far?" said Edith. "Oh, not very; about a mile across the harbour. Monte Cristo swam the distance, you know, after his escape." "Shall we go in the yacht?" Daubeney bubbled with laughter. "Well, not exactly, Miss Talbot.
I shall thus return good for evil, and Edmond Dantès, the prisoner of the Château d'If, will free the masses from their galling chains.
The cat plays about her comrade's forefeet or his trunk often, until dogs approach, and then she goes aloft out of danger. The elephant has annihilated several dogs lately that pressed his companion too closely. We hired a sailboat and a guide and made an excursion to one of the small islands in the harbor to visit the Castle d'If. This ancient fortress has a melancholy history.
Peterkin reading from his guide-book to the little boys an explanation that they were passing the Château d'If, from which the celebrated historical character the Count of Monte Cristo had escaped by flinging himself into the sea. "Where is Elizabeth Eliza? Where is Solomon John?" Mrs. Peterkin exclaimed, seizing Mr. Peterkin's arm. Where indeed?
"I am the Abbe Faria, and have been imprisoned as you know in this Chateau d'If since the year 1811; previously to which I had been confined for three years in the fortress of Fenestrelle. In the year 1811 I was transferred to Piedmont in France.
Napoleon certainly he knew something of, inasmuch as he had seen and spoken with him; but of Clement VII. and Alexander VI. he knew nothing. "Are you not," he asked, "the priest who here in the Chateau d'If is generally thought to be ill?" "Mad, you mean, don't you?" "I did not like to say so," answered Dantes, smiling.
It was empty, and Dantes emerged from the tunnel. The Cemetery of the Chateau D'If. On the bed, at full length, and faintly illuminated by the pale light that came from the window, lay a sack of canvas, and under its rude folds was stretched a long and stiffened form; it was Faria's last winding-sheet, a winding-sheet which, as the turnkey said, cost so little. Everything was in readiness.
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