“‘Sinbad the Sailor.’”
“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 that 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 blindfolded.”
“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 re-entering the drawing-room. On hearing the sound of his footsteps, the two men threw themselves in each other’s arms, and while they were 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, your excellency, 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 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.”