ea to a room on the first floor. The room was
whitewashed, as is the custom in prisons, but it looked quite brilliant
to a prisoner, though a stove, a bed, a chair, and a table formed the
whole of its sumptuous furniture. Bertuccio sat down upon the chair,
Andrea threw himself upon the bed; the keeper retired.

"Now," said the steward, "what have you to tell me?"

"And you?" said Andrea.

"You speak first."

"Oh, no. You must have much to tell me, since you have come to seek me."

"Well, be it so. You have continued your course of villany; you have
robbed--you have assassinated."

"Well, I should say! If you had me taken to a private room only to tell
me this, you might have saved yourself the trouble. I know all these
things. But there are some with which, on the contrary, I am not
acquainted. Let us talk of those, if you please. Who sent you?"

"Come, come, you are going on quickly, M. Benedetto!"

"Yes, and to the point. Let us dispense with useless words. Who sends
you?"

"No one."

"How did you know I was in prison?"

"I recognized you, some time since, as the insolent dandy who so
gracefully mounted his horse in the Champs Elysees."

"Oh, the Champs Elysees? Ah, yes; we burn, as they say at the game
of pincette. The Champs Elysees? Come, let us talk a little about my
father."

"Who, then, am I?"

"You, sir?--you are my adopted father. But it was not you, I presume,
who placed at my disposal 100,000 francs, which I spent in four or five
months; it was not you who manufactured an Italian gentleman for my
father; it was not you who introduced me into the world, and had me
invited to a certain dinner at Auteuil, which I fancy I am eating
at this moment, in company with the most distinguished people in
Paris--amongst the rest with a certain procureur, whose acquaintance I
did very wrong not to cultivate, for he would have been very useful
to me just now;--it was not you, in fact, who bailed me for one or two
millions, when the fatal discovery of my little secret took place. Come,
speak, my worthy Corsican, speak!"

"What do you wish me to say?"

"I will help you. You were speaking of the Champs Elysees just now,
worthy foster-father."

"Well?"

"Well, in the Champs Elysees there resides a very rich gentleman."

"At whose house you robbed and murdered, did you not?"

"I believe I did."

"The Count of Monte Cristo?"

"'Tis you who have named him, as M. Racine says. Well, am I to rush into
h