“No, sir; I have all my pay to take—nearly three months’ wages.” 

 “You are a careful fellow, Edmond.” 

 “Say I have a poor father, sir.” 

 “Yes, yes, I know how good a son you are, so now hasten away to see your father. I have a son too, and I should be very wroth with those who detained him from me after a three months’ voyage.” 

 “Then I have your leave, sir?” 

 “Yes, if you have nothing more to say to me.” 

 “Nothing.” 

 “Captain Leclere did not, before he died, give you a letter for me?” 

 “He was unable to write, sir. But that reminds me that I must ask your leave of absence for some days.” 

 “To get married?” 

 “Yes, first, and then to go to Paris.” 

 “Very good; have what time you require, Dantès. It will take quite six weeks to unload the cargo, and we cannot get you ready for sea until three months after that; only be back again in three months, for the Pharaon,” added the owner, patting the young sailor on the back, “cannot sail without her captain.” 

 “Without her captain!” cried Dantès, his eyes sparkling with animation; “pray mind what you say, for you are touching on the most secret wishes of my heart. Is it really your intention to make me captain of the Pharaon?” 

 “If I were sole owner we’d shake hands on it now, my dear Dantès, and call it settled; but I have a partner, and you know the Italian proverb—Chi ha compagno ha padrone—‘He who has a partner has a master.’ But the thing is at least half done, as you have one out of two votes. Rely on me to procure you the other; I will do my best.” 

 “Ah, M. Morrel,” exclaimed the young seaman, with tears in his eyes, and grasping the owner’s hand, “M. Morrel, I thank you in the name of my father and of Mercédès.” 

 “That’s all right, Edmond. There’s a providence that watches over the deserving. Go to your 

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