not found any difficulty in
recognizing the person who presented himself at the door for admittance.
He was certainly the tall young man with light hair, red beard, black
eyes, and brilliant complexion, whom his master had so particularly
described to him. When the count entered the room the young man was
carelessly stretched on a sofa, tapping his boot with the gold-headed
cane which he held in his hand. On perceiving the count he rose quickly.
"The Count of Monte Cristo, I believe?" said he.

"Yes, sir, and I think I have the honor of addressing Count Andrea
Cavalcanti?"

"Count Andrea Cavalcanti," repeated the young man, accompanying his
words with a bow.

"You are charged with a letter of introduction addressed to me, are you
not?" said the count.

"I did not mention that, because the signature seemed to me so strange."

"The letter signed 'Sinbad the Sailor,' is it not?"

"Exactly so. Now, as I have never known any Sinbad, with the exception
of the one celebrated in the 'Thousand and One Nights'"--

"Well, it is one of his descendants, and a great friend of mine; he is a
very rich Englishman, eccentric almost to insanity, and his real name is
Lord Wilmore."

"Ah, indeed? Then that explains everything that is extraordinary,"
said Andrea. "He is, then, the same Englishman whom I met--at--ah--yes,
indeed. Well, monsieur, I am at your service."

"If what you say be true," replied the count, smiling, "perhaps you will
be kind enough to give me some account of yourself and your family?"

"Certainly, I will do so," said the young man, with a quickness which
gave proof of his ready invention. "I am (as you have said) the Count
Andrea Cavalcanti, son of Major Bartolomeo Cavalcanti, a descendant of
the Cavalcanti whose names are inscribed in the golden book at Florence.
Our family, although still rich (for my father's income amounts to half
a million), has experienced many misfortunes, and I myself was, at the
age of five years, taken away by the treachery of my tutor, so that for
fifteen years I have not seen the author of my existence. Since I have
arrived at years of discretion and become my own master, I have been
constantly seeking him, but all in vain. At length I received this
letter from your friend, which states that my father is in Paris, and
authorizes me to address myself to you for information respecting him."

"Really, all you have related to me is exceedingly interesting," said
Monte Cristo, obse