"Thank you," the priest said, shivering as if ice filled his veins. "I'm about to have a cataleptic fit. At its peak, I'll probably lie still and motionless as if dead, making no sound. But the symptoms might be much more violent, I could fall into terrible convulsions, foam at the mouth, and cry out loudly.
Make sure my cries aren't heard, because if they are, I'll probably be moved to another part of the prison, and we'll be separated forever.
When I become completely motionless, cold, and rigid as a corpse, and not before, be careful about this, force open my teeth with the knife and pour eight to ten drops of the liquid down my throat. I might revive."
"Might?" Edmond repeated in anguish.
"Help! Help!" the priest cried. "I- I- I'm dying-"
