"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."