“Yes, yes, Edmond, that is true, but you forgot at that time a little debt to our neighbor, Caderousse. He reminded me of it, telling me if I did not pay for you, he would be paid by M. Morrel; and so, you see, lest he might do you an injury——”
“Well?”
“Why, I paid him.”
“But,” cried Dantès, “it was a hundred and forty francs I owed Caderousse.”
“Yes,” stammered the old man.
“And you paid him out of the two hundred francs I left you?”
The old man nodded.
“So that you have lived for three months on sixty francs,” muttered Edmond.
“You know how little I require,” said the old man.
“Heaven pardon me,” cried Edmond, falling on his knees before his father.