Avenue des Champs Elysees, on the 26th of May, at seven o'clock in the evening, and demand of him your father. You are the son of the Marquis Cavalcanti and the Marquise Oliva Corsinan. The marquis will give you some papers which will certify this fact, and authorize you to appear under that name in the Parisian world. As to your rank, an annual income of fifty thousand livres icill enable you to support it admirably. I inclose a draft for five thousand livres, payable on N. Ferrea, banker at Nice, and also a letter of introduction to the Count of Monte- Cristo, whom I have directed to supply all your wants.
"Humph!" said the major; "very good! You have seen the count, you say!"
"I have only just left him."
"And has he conformed to all which the letter specified?"
"He has."
"Do you understand it?"
"Not in the least."
"There is a dupe somewhere."
"At all events it is neither you nor I."
"Certainly not."
"Well, then"
"Why, it does not much concern us; do you think it does?"
"No! I agree with you there; we must play the game to the end, and consent to be blindfold."
"Ah! you shall see; I promise you I will sustain my part to admiration."
"I never once doubted your doing so." Monte-Cristo chose this moment for reëntering the drawing-room. On hearing the sound of his footsteps, the two men threw themselves in each other's arms; and, in the midst of this embrace, the count entered.
"Well, marquis," said Monte-Cristo, "you appear to be in no way disappointed in the son whom your good fortune has restored to you."
"Ah! M. le Comte, I am overwhelmed with delight."
"And what are your feelings?" said Monte-Cristo, turning to the young man.
"As for me, my heart is overflowing with happiness."
"Happy father! happy son!" said the count.
"There is only one thing which grieves me," observed the major, "and that is the necessity there is for my leaving Paris so soon."
"Ah! my dear M. Cavalcanti, I trust you will not leave before I have had the honor of presenting you to some of my friends."
"I am at your service, sir," replied the major.
"Now, sir," said Monte-Cristo, addressing Andrea, "make your confession."
