“Then you have nothing more to do here?” 

 “No—everything is all right now.” 

 “Then you can come and dine with me?” 

 “I really must ask you to excuse me, M. Morrel. My first visit is due to my father, though I am not the less grateful for the honor you have done me.” 

 “Right, Dantès, quite right. I always knew you were a good son.” 

 “And,” inquired Dantès, with some hesitation, “do you know how my father is?” 

 “Well, I believe, my dear Edmond, though I have not seen him lately.” 

 “Yes, he likes to keep himself shut up in his little room.” 

 “That proves, at least, that he has wanted for nothing during your absence.” 

 Dantès smiled. “My father is proud, sir, and if he had not a meal left, I doubt if he would have asked anything from anyone, except from Heaven.” 

 “Well, then, after this first visit has been made we shall count on you.” 

 “I must again excuse myself, M. Morrel, for after this first visit has been paid I have another which I am most anxious to pay.” 

 “True, Dantès, I forgot that there was at the Catalans someone who expects you no less impatiently than your father—the lovely Mercédès.” 

 Dantès blushed. 

 “Ah, ha,” said the shipowner, “I am not in the least surprised, for she has been to me three times, inquiring if there were any news of the Pharaon. Peste! Edmond, you have a very handsome mistress!” 

 “She is not my mistress,” replied the young sailor, gravely; “she is my betrothed.” 

 “Sometimes one and the same thing,” said Morrel, with a smile. 

 “Not with us, sir,” replied Dantès. 

 “Well, well, my dear Edmond,” continued the owner, “don’t let me detain you. You have managed my affairs so well that I ought to allow you all the time you require for your own. Do you want any money?” 

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