Граф Монте-Кристо

Major Cavalcanti.

           

           "Itis40,000francswhichInowoweyou,"saidMonteCristo.

           "Doesyourexcellencywishforareceipt?"saidthemajor,atthesametimeslippingthemoneyintotheinnerpocketofhiscoat.

           "Forwhat?"saidthecount.

           "IthoughtyoumightwantittoshowtheAbbeBusoni."

           "Well,whenyoureceivetheremaining40,000,youshallgivemeareceiptinfull.Betweenhonestmensuchexcessiveprecautionis,Ithink,quiteunnecessary."

           "Yes,soitis,betweenperfectlyuprightpeople."

           "Onewordmore,"saidMonteCristo.

           "Sayon."

           "Youwillpermitmetomakeoneremark?"

           "Certainly;praydoso."

           "ThenIshouldadviseyoutoleaveoffwearingthatstyleofdress."

           "Indeed,"saidthemajor,regardinghimselfwithanairofcompletesatisfaction.

           "Yes.ItmaybewornatViaReggio;butthatcostume,howeverelegantinitself,haslongbeenoutoffashioninParis."

           "That’sunfortunate."

           "Oh,ifyoureallyareattachedtoyouroldmodeofdress;youcaneasilyresumeitwhenyouleaveParis."

           "ButwhatshallIwear?"

           "Whatyoufindinyourtrunks."

           "Inmytrunks?Ihavebutoneportmanteau."

           "Idaresayyouhavenothingelsewithyou

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