“Is it possible that a man of your standing should be embarrassed 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 dilated with pleasing astonishment. “But sit down,” said Monte Cristo; “really I do not know what I have been thinking of⁠—I have positively kept you standing for the last quarter of an hour.”

“Don’t mention it.” The major drew an armchair towards him, and proceeded to seat himself.

“Now,” said the count, “what will you take⁠—a glass of sherry, port, or Alicante?”