When the first rays of dawn started to bring a little light into this den, the jailer returned with orders to leave the prisoner where he was. Dantès had not moved. An iron hand seemed to have nailed him to the very spot where he had stopped the night before: only his deep-set eyes were now hidden behind the swelling caused by the moisture of his tears. He was motionless, staring at the floor. He had spent the whole night in this way, standing, and not sleeping for an instant.
With the first dawn of the day the gaoler returned, with orders to leave Dantès where he was. He found the prisoner in the same position, as if fixed there,— his eyes swollen with weeping.
aww 🤕
