“It appears so, sir,” replied Monte Cristo.
“Do you know if the marriage settlement he promised me has come?”
“I have been advised of it.”
“But the three millions?”
“The three millions are probably on the road.”
“Then I shall really have them?”
“Oh, well,” said the count, “I do not think you have yet known the want of money.”
Andrea was so surprised that he pondered the matter for a moment. Then, arousing from his reverie:
“Now, sir, I have one request to make to you, which you will understand, even if it should be disagreeable to you.”
“Proceed,” said Monte Cristo.
“I have formed an acquaintance, thanks to my good fortune, with many noted persons, and have, at least for the moment, a crowd of friends. But marrying, as I am about to do, before all Paris, I ought to be supported by an illustrious name, and in the absence of the paternal hand some powerful one ought to lead me to the altar; now, my father is not coming to Paris, is he?”
“He is old, covered with wounds, and suffers dreadfully, he says, in travelling.”
“I understand; well, I am come to ask a favor of you.”
“Of me?”