"Certainly."

"Very well, then."

"If they should hear of the separation"--

"Ah, yes; what could I say?"

"That an unfaithful tutor, bought over by the enemies of your family"--

"By the Corsinari?"

"Precisely. Had stolen away this child, in order that your name might
become extinct."

"That is reasonable, since he is an only son."

"Well, now that all is arranged, do not let these newly awakened
remembrances be forgotten. You have, doubtless, already guessed that I
was preparing a surprise for you?"

"An agreeable one?" asked the Italian.

"Ah, I see the eye of a father is no more to be deceived than his
heart."

"Hum!" said the major.

"Some one has told you the secret; or, perhaps, you guessed that he was
here."

"That who was here?"

"Your child--your son--your Andrea!"

"I did guess it," replied the major with the greatest possible coolness.
"Then he is here?"

"He is," said Monte Cristo; "when the valet de chambre came in just now,
he told me of his arrival."

"Ah, very well, very well," said the major, clutching the buttons of his
coat at each exclamation.

"My dear sir," said Monte Cristo, "I understand your emotion; you must
have time to recover yourself. I will, in the meantime, go and prepare
the young man for this much-desired interview, for I presume that he is
not less impatient for it than yourself."

"I should quite imagine that to be the case," said Cavalcanti.

"Well, in a quarter of an hour he shall be with you."

"You will bring him, then? You carry your goodness so far as even to
present him to me yourself?"

"No; I do not wish to come between a father and son. Your interview will
be private. But do not be uneasy; even if the powerful voice of nature
should be silent, you cannot well mistake him; he will enter by this
door. He is a fine young man, of fair complexion--a little too fair,
perhaps--pleasing in manners; but you will see and judge for yourself."

"By the way," said the major, "you know I have only the 2,000 francs
which the Abbe Busoni sent me; this sum I have expended upon travelling
expenses, and"--

"And you want money; that is a matter of course, my dear M. Cavalcanti.
Well, here are 8,000 francs on account."

The major's eyes sparkled brilliantly.

"It is 40,000 francs which I now owe you," said Monte Cristo.

"Does your excellency wish for a receipt?" said the major, at the same
time slipping the money into the inner pocket of his coat.

"F