Both the count and Baptistin had told the truth when theyannounced to Morcerf the proposed visit of the major, whichhad served Monte Cristo as a pretext for declining Albert'sinvitation. Seven o'clock had just struck, and M. Bertuccio,according to the command which had been given him, had twohours before left for Auteuil, when a cab stopped at thedoor, and after depositing its occupant at the gate,immediately hurried away, as if ashamed of its employment.The visitor was about fifty-two years of age, dressed in oneof the green surtouts, ornamented with black frogs, whichhave so long maintained their popularity all over Europe. Hewore trousers of blue cloth, boots tolerably clean, but notof the brightest polish, and a little too thick in thesoles, buckskin gloves, a hat somewhat resembling in shapethose usually worn by the gendarmes, and a black cravatstriped with white, which, if the proprietor had not worn itof his own free will, might have passed for a halter, somuch did it resemble one. Such was the picturesque costumeof the person who rang at the gate, and demanded if it wasnot at No. 30 in the Avenue des Champs-Elysees that theCount of Monte Cristo lived, and who, being answered by theporter in the affirmative, entered, closed the gate afterhim, and began to ascend the steps.

The small and angular head of this man, his white hair andthick gray mustaches, caused him to be easily recognized byBaptistin, who had received an exact description of theexpected visitor, and who was awaiting him in the hall.Therefore, scarcely had the stranger time to pronounce hisname before the count was apprised of his arrival. He wasushered into a simple and elegant drawing-room, and thecount rose to meet him with a smiling air. "Ah, my dear sir,you are most welcome; I was expecting you."

"Indeed," said the Italian, "was your excellency then awareof my visit?"

"Yes; I had been told that I should see you to-day at seveno'clock."

"Then you have received full information concerning myarrival?"

"Of course."

"Ah, so much the better, I feared this little precautionmight have been forgotten."

"What precaution?"

"That of informing you beforehand of my coming."

"Oh, no, it has not."

"But you are sure you are not mistaken."

"Very sure."

"It really was I whom your excellency expected at seveno'clock this evening?"

"I will prove it to you beyond a doubt."

"Oh, no, never mind that," said the Italian; "it is notworth the trouble."

"Yes, yes," said Monte Cristo. His visitor appeared slightlyuneasy. "Let me see," said the count; "are you not theMarquis Bartolomeo Cavalcanti?"

"Bartolomeo Cavalcanti," joyfully replied the Italian; "yes,I am really he."

"Ex-major in the Austrian service?"

"Was I a major?" timidly asked the old soldier.

"Yes," said Monte Cristo "you were a major; that is thetitle the French give to the post which you filled inItaly."

"Very good," said the major, "I do not demand more, youunderstand" -

"Your visit here to-day is not of your own suggestion, isit?" said Monte Cristo.

"No, certainly not."

"You were sent by some other person?"

"Yes."

"By the excellent Abbe Busoni?"

"Exactly so," said the delighted major.

"And you have a letter?"

"Yes, there it is."

"Give it me, then;" and Monte Cristo took the letter, whichhe opened and read. The major looked at the count with hislarge staring eyes, and then took a survey of the apartment,but his gaze almost immediately reverted to the proprietorof the room. "Yes, yes, I see. `Major Cavalcanti, a worthypatrician of Lucca, a descendant of the Cavalcanti ofFlorence,'" continued Monte Cristo, reading aloud,"`possessing an income of half a million.'" Monte Cristoraised his eyes from the paper, and bowed. "Half a million,"said he, "magnificent!"

"Half a million, is it?" said the major.

"Yes, in so many words; and it must be so, for the abbeknows correctly the amount of all the largest fortunes inEurope."

"Be it half a million. then; but on my word of honor, I hadno idea that it was so much."

"Because you are robbed by your steward. You must make somereformation in that quarter."

"You have opened my eyes," said the Italian gravely; "I willshow the gentlemen the door." Monte Cristo resumed theperusal of the letter: -

"`And who only needs one thing more to make him happy.'"

"Yes, indeed but one!" said the major with a sigh.

"`Which is to recover a lost and adored son.'"

"A lost and adored son!"

"`Stolen away in his infancy, either by an enemy of hisnoble family or by the gypsies.'"

"At the age of five years!" said the major with a deep sigh,and raising his eye to heaven.

"Unhappy father," said Monte Cristo. The count continued: -

"`I have given him renewed life and hope, in the assurancethat you have the power of restoring the son whom he hasvainly sought for fifteen years.'" The major looked at thecount with an indescribable expression of anxiety. "I havethe power of so doing," said Monte Cristo. The majorrecovered his self-possession. "So, then," said he, "theletter was true to the end?"

"Did you doubt it, my dear Monsieur Bartolomeo?"

"No, indeed; certainly not; a good man, a man holdingreligious office, as does the Abbe Busoni, could notcondescend to deceive or play off a joke; but yourexcellency has not read all."

"Ah, true," said Monte Cristo "there is a postscript."

"Yes, yes," repeated the major, "yes - there - is - a - postscript."

"`In order to save Major Cavalcanti the trouble of drawingon his banker, I send him a draft for 2,000 francs to defrayhis travelling expenses, and credit on you for the furthersum of 48,000 francs, which you still owe me.'" The majorawaited the conclusion of the postscript, apparently withgreat anxiety. "Very good," said the count.

"He said `very good,'" muttered the major, "then - sir" - replied he.

"Then what?" asked Monte Cristo.

"Then the postscript" -

"Well; what of the postscript?"

"Then the postscript is as favorably received by you as therest of the letter?"

"Certainly; the Abbe Busoni and myself have a small accountopen between us. I do not remember if it is exactly 48,000francs, which I am still owing him, but I dare say we shallnot dispute the difference. You attached great importance,then, to this postscript, my dear Monsieur Cavalcanti?"

"I must explain to you," said the major, "that, fullyconfiding in the signature of the Abbe Busoni, I had notprovided myself with any other funds; so that if thisresource had failed me, I should have found myself veryunpleasantly situated in Paris."

"Is it possible that a man of your standing should beembarrassed anywhere?" said Monte Cristo.

"Why, really I know no one," said the major.

"But then you yourself are known to others?"

"Yes, I am known, so that" -

"Proceed, my dear Monsieur Cavalcanti."

"So that you will remit to me these 48,000 francs?"

"Certainly, at your first request." The major's eyes dilatedwith pleasing astonishment. "But sit down," said MonteCristo; "really I do not know what I have been thinking of- I have positively kept you standing for the last quarterof an hour."

"Don't mention it." The major drew an arm-chair towards him,and proceeded to seat himself.

"Now," said the count, "what will you take - a glass ofport, sherry, or Alicante?"

"Alicante, if you please; it is my favorite wine."

"I have some that is very good. You will take a biscuit withit, will you not?"

"Yes, I will take a biscuit, as you are so obliging."

Monte Cristo rang; Baptistin appeared. The count advanced tomeet him. "Well?" said he in a low voice. "The young man ishere," said the valet de chambre in the same tone.

"Into what room did you take him?"

"Into the blue drawing-room, according to your excellency'sorders."

"That's right; now bring the Alicante and some biscuits."

Baptistin left the room. "Really," said the major, "I amquite ashamed of the trouble I am giving you."

"Pray don't mention such a thing," said the count. Baptistinre-entered with glasses, wine, and biscuits. The countfilled one glass, but in the other he only poured a fewdrops of the ruby-colored liquid. The bottle was coveredwith spiders' webs, and all the other signs which indicatethe age of wine more truly than do wrinkles on a man's face.The major made a wise choice; he took the full glass and abiscuit. The count told Baptistin to leave the plate withinreach of his guest, who began by sipping the Alicante withan expression of great satisfaction, and then delicatelysteeped his biscuit in the wine.

"So, sir, you lived at Lucca, did you? You were rich, noble,held in great esteem - had all that could render a manhappy?"

"All," said the major, hastily swallowing his biscuit,"positively all."

"And yet there was one thing wanting in order to completeyour happiness?"

"Only one thing," said the Italian.

"And that one thing, your lost child."

"Ah," said the major, taking a second biscuit, "thatconsummation of my happiness was indeed wanting." The worthymajor raised his eyes to heaven and sighed.

"Let me hear, then," said the count, "who this deeplyregretted son was; for I always understood you were abachelor."

"That was the general opinion, sir," said the major, "and I"-

"Yes," replied the count, "and you confirmed the report. Ayouthful indiscretion, I suppose, which you were anxious toconceal from the world at large?" The major recoveredhimself, and resumed his usual calm manner, at the same timecasting his eyes down, either to give himself time tocompose his countenance, or to assist his imagination, allthe while giving an under-look at the count, the protractedsmile on whose lips still announced the same politecuriosity. "Yes," said the major, "I did wish this fault tobe hidden from every eye."

"Not on your own account, surely," replied Monte Cristo;"for a man is above that sort of thing?"

"Oh, no, certainly not on my own account," said the majorwith a smile and a shake of the head.

"But for the sake of the mother?" said the count.

"Yes, for the mother's sake - his poor mother!" cried themajor, taking a third biscuit.

"Take some more wine, my dear Cavalcanti," said the count,pouring out for him a second glass of Alicante; "youremotion has quite overcome you."

"His poor mother," murmured the major, trying to get thelachrymal gland in operation, so as to moisten the corner ofhis eye with a false tear.

"She belonged to one of the first families in Italy, Ithink, did she not?"

"She was of a noble family of Fiesole, count."

"And her name was" -

"Do you desire to know her name?" -

"Oh," said Monte Cristo "it would be quite superfluous foryou to tell me, for I already know it."

"The count knows everything," said the Italian, bowing.

"Oliva Corsinari, was it not?"

"Oliva Corsinari."

"A marchioness?"

"A marchioness."

"And you married her at last, notwithstanding the oppositionof her family?"

"Yes, that was the way it ended."

"And you have doubtless brought all your papers with you?"said Monte Cristo.

"What papers?"

"The certificate of your marriage with Oliva Corsinari, andthe register of your child's birth."

"The register of my child's birth?"

"The register of the birth of Andrea Cavalcanti - of yourson; is not his name Andrea?"

"I believe so," said the major.

"What? You believe so?"

"I dare not positively assert it, as he has been lost for solong a time."

"Well, then," said Monte Cristo "you have all the documentswith you?"

"Your excellency, I regret to say that, not knowing it wasnecessary to come provided with these papers, I neglected tobring them."

"That is unfortunate," returned Monte Cristo.

"Were they, then, so necessary?"

"They were indispensable."

The major passed his hand across his brow. "Ah, per Bacco,indispensable, were they?"

"Certainly they were; supposing there were to be doubtsraised as to the validity of your marriage or the legitimacyof your child?"

"True," said the major, "there might be doubts raised."

"In that case your son would be very unpleasantly situated."

"It would be fatal to his interests."

"It might cause him to fail in some desirable matrimonialalliance."

"O peccato!"

"You must know that in France they are very particular onthese points; it is not sufficient, as in Italy, to go tothe priest and say, `We love each other, and want you tomarry us.' Marriage is a civil affair in France, and inorder to marry in an orthodox manner you must have paperswhich undeniably establish your identity."

"That is the misfortune! You see I have not these necessarypapers."

"Fortunately, I have them, though," said Monte Cristo.

"You?"

"Yes."

"You have them?"

"I have them."

"Ah, indeed?" said the major, who, seeing the object of hisjourney frustrated by the absence of the papers, feared alsothat his forgetfulness might give rise to some difficultyconcerning the 48,000 francs - "ah, indeed, that is afortunate circumstance; yes, that really is lucky, for itnever occurred to me to bring them."

"I do not at all wonder at it - one cannot think ofeverything; but, happily, the Abbe Busoni thought for you."

"He is an excellent person."

"He is extremely prudent and thoughtful"

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

"Here they are."

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

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

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

"All quite correct."

"Take these documents, then; they do not concern me. Youwill give them to your son, who will, of course, take greatcare 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 towrite to the curate for duplicates, and it would be sometime before they could be obtained."

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

"Almost an impossibility," replied the major.

"I am very glad to see that you understand the value ofthese 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 uponus; 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 theseten years."

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

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

"You think so?"

"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 ofyour family" -

"By the Corsinari?"

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

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

"Well, now that all is arranged, do not let these newlyawakened 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 deceivedthan his heart."

"Hum!" said the major.

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

"That who was here?"

"Your child - your son - your Andrea!"

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

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

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

"My dear sir," said Monte Cristo, "I understand youremotion; you must have time to recover yourself. I will, inthe meantime, go and prepare the young man for thismuch-desired interview, for I presume that he is not lessimpatient for it than yourself."

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

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

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

"No; I do not wish to come between a father and son. Yourinterview will be private. But do not be uneasy; even if thepowerful voice of nature should be silent, you cannot wellmistake him; he will enter by this door. He is a fine youngman, of fair complexion - a little too fair, perhaps - pleasing in manners; but you will see and judge foryourself."

"By the way," said the major, "you know I have only the2,000 francs which the Abbe Busoni sent me; this sum I haveexpended 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 MonteCristo.

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

"For what?" said the count.

"I thought you might want it to show the Abbe Busoni."

"Well, when you receive the remaining 40,000, you shall giveme a receipt in full. Between honest men such excessiveprecaution is, I think, quite unnecessary."

"Yes, so it is, between perfectly upright people."

"One word more," said Monte Cristo.

"Say on."

"You will permit me to make one remark?"

"Certainly; pray do so."

"Then I should advise you to leave off wearing that style ofdress."

"Indeed," said the major, regarding himself with an air ofcomplete satisfaction.

"Yes. It may be worn at Via Reggio; but that costume,however elegant in itself, has long been out of fashion inParis."

"That's unfortunate."

"Oh, if you really are attached to your old mode of dress;you can easily resume it when you leave Paris."

"But what shall I wear?"

"What you find in your trunks."

"In my trunks? I have but one portmanteau."

"I dare say you have nothing else with you. What is the useof boring one's self with so many things? Besides an oldsoldier always likes to march with as little baggage aspossible."

"That is just the case - precisely so."

"But you are a man of foresight and prudence, therefore yousent your luggage on before you. It has arrived at the Hoteldes Princes, Rue de Richelieu. It is there you are to takeup your quarters."

"Then, in these trunks" -

"I presume you have given orders to your valet de chambre toput in all you are likely to need, - your plain clothes andyour uniform. On grand occasions you must wear your uniform;that will look very well. Do not forget your crosses. Theystill laugh at them in France, and yet always wear them, forall that."

"Very well, very well," said the major, who was in ecstasyat the attention paid him by the count.

"Now," said Monte Cristo, "that you have fortified yourselfagainst all painful excitement, prepare yourself, my dear M.Cavalcanti, to meet your lost Andrea." Saying which MonteCristo bowed, and disappeared behind the tapestry, leavingthe major fascinated beyond expression with the delightfulreception which he had received at the hands of the count.