“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.”

“I am at your service, sir,” replied the major.

“Now, sir,” said Monte Cristo, addressing Andrea, “make your confession.”

“To whom?”

“Tell M. Cavalcanti something of the state of your finances.”

“Ma foi! monsieur, you have touched upon a tender chord.”

“Do you hear what he says, major?”