In this harrowing chapter, Dumas traces the emotional collapse of Edmond Dantès—not with violence, but with silence. From righteous innocence to desperate bargaining, Dantès endures the slow grind of solitary imprisonment. He speaks just to hear a voice. He begs for movement, for conversation, even for a deeper, darker cell. And most chillingly, he starts to envy the galley-slaves—the branded, chained men—because at least they can breathe the air and see each other’s faces. Hope is not gone—but it’s sickened into something quieter, stranger, and more dangerous.