“Ah, true, I was writing. I do sometimes, soldier though I am.”

Monte Cristo advanced into the room; Maximilian was obliged to let him pass, but he followed him.

“You were writing?” said Monte Cristo with a searching look.

“I have already had the honor of telling you I was,” said Morrel.

The count looked around him.

“Your pistols are beside your desk,” said Monte Cristo, pointing with his finger to the pistols on the table.

“I am on the point of starting on a journey,” replied Morrel disdainfully.

“My friend,” exclaimed Monte Cristo in a tone of exquisite sweetness.

“Sir?”