These rolls consisted of slips of cloth about four inches wide and eighteen long; they were all carefully numbered and closely covered with writing, so legible that Dantes could easily read it, as well as make out the sense--it being in Italian, a language he, as a Provencal, perfectly understood.
"There," said he, "there is the work complete.

I wrote the word finis at the end of the sixty-eighth strip about a week ago.

I have torn up two of my shirts, and as many handkerchiefs as I was master of, to complete the precious pages.

Should I ever get out of prison and find in all Italy a printer courageous enough to publish what I have composed, my literary reputation is forever secured." "I see," answered Dantes.

"Now let me behold the curious pens with which you have written your work." "Look!" said Faria, showing to the young man a slender stick about six inches long, and much resembling the size of the handle of a fine painting-brush, to the end of which was tied, by a piece of thread, one of those cartilages of which the abbe had before spoken to Dantes; it was pointed, and divided at the nib like an ordinary pen.