"Sir," said the gardener, glancing at the sun-dial, "the ten minutes are nearly expired; I must return to my post. Will you go up with me?" "I follow you." Monte Cristo entered the tower, which was divided into three stages. The lowest contained gardening implements, such as spades, rakes, watering-pots, hung against the wall; this was all the furniture. The second was the usual dwelling or rather sleeping-place of the man; it contained a few poor articles of household furniture, a bed, a table, two chairs, a stone pitcher, and some dry herbs hung up to the ceiling, which the count recognized as sweet-peas, and of which the good man was preserving the seeds, having labeled them with as much care as if he had been a botanist. "Does it require much study to learn the art of telegraphing, sir?" asked Monte Cristo. "The study does not take long; it was acting as a supernumerary that was so tedious." "And what is the pay?" "A thousand francs, sir." "It is nothing." "No; but then we are lodged, as you perceive." Monte Cristo looked at the room. They passed on to the third stage; it was the room of the telegraph. Monte Cristo looked in turns at the two iron handles by which the machine was worked. "It is very interesting," he said; "but it must be very tedious for a lifetime." "Yes. At first my neck was cramped with looking at it, but at the end of a year I became used to it; and then we have our hours of recreation, and our holidays when we have a fog." "Ah, to be sure." "Those are indeed holidays to me; I go into the garden, I plant, prune, trim, and kill the insects all day long." "How long have you been here?" "Ten years, and five as a supernumerary make fifteen." "You are--" "Fifty-five years old." "How long must you serve to claim the pension?" "Oh, sir, twenty-five years." "And how much is the pension?" "A hundred crowns." "Poor humanity!" murmured Monte Cristo. "What did you say, sir?" asked the man. "I was saying it was very interesting." "What was?" "All you were showing me. And you really understand none of these signals?" "None at all." "And have you never tried to understand them?" "Never. Why should I?" "But still there are some signals only addressed to you." "Certainly." "And do you understand them?" "They are always the same." "And they mean--" "_Nothing new_; _You have an hour_; or _To-morrow_." "This is simple enough," said the count; "but look! is not your correspondent putting himself in motion?" "Ah yes; thank you, sir." "And what is it saying--anything you understand?" "Yes; it asks if I am ready." "And you reply?" "By the same sign, which at the same time tells my right-hand correspondent that I am ready, while it gives notice to my left-hand correspondent to prepare in his turn." "It is very ingenious," said the count. "You will see," said the man, proudly; "in five minutes he will speak."