“Ah, you are a good and an excellent friend,” said Albert; “yes, you are right; watch, watch, Beauchamp, and try to discover the enemy who made this disclosure.”

Albert and Beauchamp parted, the last pressure of their hands expressing what their tongues could not before a stranger.

“Beauchamp is a worthy fellow,” said Monte Cristo, when the journalist was gone; “is he not, Albert?”

“Yes, and a sincere friend; I love him devotedly. But now we are alone⁠—although it is immaterial to me⁠—where are we going?”

“Into Normandy, if you like.”

“Delightful; shall we be quite retired? have no society, no neighbors?”

“Our companions will be riding-horses, dogs to hunt with, and a fishing-boat.”