"He is extremely prudent and thoughtful."

"He is an admirable man," said the major; "and he sent them to you?"

"Here they are."

The major clasped his hands in token of admiration. "You married Oliva
Corsinari in the church of San Paolo del Monte-Cattini; here is the
priest's certificate."

"Yes indeed, there it is truly," said the Italian, looking on with
astonishment.

"And here is Andrea Cavalcanti's baptismal register, given by the curate
of Saravezza."

"All quite correct."

"Take these documents, then; they do not concern me. You will give them
to your son, who will, of course, take great care of them."

"I should think so, indeed! If he were to lose them"--

"Well, and if he were to lose them?" said Monte Cristo.

"In that case," replied the major, "it would be necessary to write to
the curate for duplicates, and it would be some time before they could
be obtained."

"It would be a difficult matter to arrange," said Monte Cristo.

"Almost an impossibility," replied the major.

"I am very glad to see that you understand the value of these papers."

"I regard them as invaluable."

"Now," said Monte Cristo "as to the mother of the young man"--

"As to the mother of the young man"--repeated the Italian, with anxiety.

"As regards the Marchesa Corsinari"--

"Really," said the major, "difficulties seem to thicken upon us; will
she be wanted in any way?"

"No, sir," replied Monte Cristo; "besides, has she not"--

"Yes, sir," said the major, "she has"--

"Paid the last debt of nature?"

"Alas, yes," returned the Italian.

"I knew that," said Monte Cristo; "she has been dead these ten years."

"And I am still mourning her loss," exclaimed the major, drawing from
his pocket a checked handkerchief, and alternately wiping first the left
and then the right eye.

"What would you have?" said Monte Cristo; "we are all mortal. Now, you
understand, my dear Monsieur Cavalcanti, that it is useless for you to
tell people in France that you have been separated from your son for
fifteen years. Stories of gypsies, who steal children, are not at all in
vogue in this part of the world, and would not be believed. You sent him
for his education to a college in one of the provinces, and now you wish
him to complete his education in the Parisian world. That is the reason
which has induced you to leave Via Reggio, where you have lived since
the death of your wife. That will be sufficient."

"You think so?"