LITERARY GENIUS
Alexandre Dumas has secured for himself the enviable position as the most widely read French author in the world, thanks to his predilection for writing action-packed historical fiction. Among his best knows works are Les Trois Mousquetaires (The Three Musketeers) and Le Comte de Monte Cristo. The latter, completed in 1844 and released as an 18-part series over the following two years, is considered by many to be Dumas’ best work. The excerpt that follows details the escape of the main character, Edmond Dantès, from his prison cell in Château d’If.

FROM LE COMTE DE MONTE CRISTO (THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO)
by Alexandre Dumas

Chapter XXI – The Island of Tiboulen

DANTÉS, ALTHOUGH STUNNED and almost suffocated, had sufficient presence of mind to hold his breath, and as his right hand (prepared as he was for every chance) held his knife open, he rapidly ripped up the sack, extricated his arm, and then his body; but in spite of all his efforts to free himself from the shot, he felt it dragging him down still lower. He then bent his body, and by a desperate effort severed the cord that bound his legs, at the moment when it seemed as if he were actually strangled. With a mighty leap he rose to the surface of the sea, while the shot dragged down to the depths the sack that had so nearly become his shroud.
               Dantès waited only to get breath, and then dived, in order to avoid being seen. When he arose a second time, he was fifty paces from where he had first sunk. He saw overhead a black and tempestuous sky, across which the wind was driving clouds that occasionally suffered a twinkling star to appear; before him was the vast expanse of waters, somber and terrible, whose waves foamed and roared as if before the approach of a storm. Behind him, blacker than the sea, blacker than the sky, rose phantom-like the vast stone structure, whose projecting crags seemed like arms extended to seize their prey, and on the highest rock was a torch lighting two figures. He fancied that these two forms were looking at the sea; doubtless these strange grave-diggers had heard his cry. Dantès dived again, and remained a long time beneath the water. This was an easy feat to him, for he usually attracted a crowd of spectators in the bay before the lighthouse at Marseilles when he swam there, and was unanimously declared to be the best swimmer in the port. When he came up again the light had disappeared.
               He must now get his bearings. Ratonneau and Pomegue are the nearest islands of all those that surround the Château d'If, but Ratonneau and Pomegue are inhabited, as is also the islet of Daume, Tiboulen and Lemaire were therefore the safest for Dantès’ venture. The islands of Tiboulen and Lemaire are a league from the Château d’If; Dantès, nevertheless, determined to make for them. But how could he find his way in the darkness of the night? At this moment he saw the light of Planier, gleaming in front of him like a star. By leaving this light on the right, he kept the Island of Tiboulen a little on the left; by turning to the left, therefore, he would find it. But, as we have said, it was at least a league from the Château d’If to this island. Often in prison Faria had said to him, when he saw him idle and inactive, “Dantès, you must not give way to this listlessness; you will be drowned if you seek to escape, and your strength has not been properly exercised and prepared for exertion.” These words rang in Dantès’ ears, even beneath the waves; he hastened to cleave his way through them to see if he had not lost his strength. He found with pleasure that his captivity had taken away nothing of his power, and that he was still master of that element on whose bosom he had so often sported as a boy.
               Fear, that relentless pursuer, clogged Dantès’ efforts. He listened for any sound that might be audible, and every time that he rose to the top of a wave he scanned the horizon, and strove to penetrate the darkness. He fancied that every wave behind him was a pursuing boat, and he redoubled his exertions, increasing rapidly his distance from the chateau, but exhausting his strength. He swam on still, and already the terrible chateau had disappeared in the darkness. He could not see it, but he felt its presence. An hour passed, during which Dantès, excited by the feeling of freedom, continued to cleave the waves. “Let us see,” said he, “I have swum above an hour,  but as the  wind is against me,  that has retarded my  speed; however, if I am not mistaken, I must be close to