Father and Son.

           WewillleaveDanglarsstrugglingwiththedemonofhatred,andendeavoringtoinsinuateintheearoftheshipownersomeevilsuspicionsagainsthiscomrade,andfollowDantes,who,afterhavingtraversedLaCanebiere,tooktheRuedeNoailles,andenteringasmallhouse,ontheleftoftheAlleesdeMeillan,rapidlyascendedfourflightsofadarkstaircase,holdingthebalusterwithonehand,whilewiththeotherherepressedthebeatingsofhisheart,andpausedbeforeahalf-opendoor,fromwhichhecouldseethewholeofasmallroom.

           ThisroomwasoccupiedbyDantes’father.ThenewsofthearrivalofthePharaonhadnotyetreachedtheoldman,who,mountedonachair,wasamusinghimselfbytrainingwithtremblinghandthenasturtiumsandspraysofclematisthatclamberedoverthetrellisathiswindow.Suddenly,hefeltanarmthrownaroundhisbody,andawell-knownvoicebehindhimexclaimed,"Fatherdearfather!"

           Theoldmanutteredacry,andturnedround;then,seeinghisson,hefellintohisarms,paleandtrembling.

           "Whatailsyou,mydearestfather?Areyouill?"inquiredtheyoungman,muchalarmed.

           "No,no,mydearEdmondmyboymyson!no;butIdidnotexpectyou;andjoy,thesurpriseofseeingyousosuddenlyAh,IfeelasifIweregoingtodie."

           "Come,come,cheerup,mydearfather!’TisI—reallyI!Theysayjoyneverhurts,andsoIcametoyouwithoutanywarning.Comenow,dosmile,insteadoflookingatmesosolemnly.

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