“In a month, to the day, the very hour and the date is a sacred one, Maximilian. I do not know whether you remember that this is the 5th of September; it is ten years today since I saved your father’s life, who wished to die.”
Morrel seized the count’s hand and kissed it; the count allowed him to pay the homage he felt due to him.
“In a month you will find on the table, at which we shall be then sitting, good pistols and a delicious draught; but, on the other hand, you must promise me not to attempt your life before that time.”
“Oh, I also swear it!”
Monte Cristo drew the young man towards him, and pressed him for some time to his heart. “And now,” he said, “after today, you will come and live with me; you can occupy Haydée’s apartment, and my daughter will at least be replaced by my son.”
“Haydée?” said Morrel, “what has become of her?”
“She departed last night.”
“To leave you?”
“To wait for me. Hold yourself ready then to join me at the Champs-Élysées, and lead me out of this house without anyone seeing my departure.”
Maximilian hung his head, and obeyed with childlike reverence.