Chapter 20

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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.

A barrier had been placed between Dantes and his old friend.

No longer could Edmond look into those wide-open eyes which had seemed to be penetrating the mysteries of death; no longer could he clasp the hand which had done so much to make his existence blessed.