“Certainly, at your first request.” The major’s eyes dilated with pleasing astonishment. “But sit down,” said Monte Cristo; “really I do not know what I have been thinking of—I have positively kept you standing for the last quarter of an hour.”
“Don’t mention it.” The major drew an armchair towards him, and proceeded to seat himself.
“Now,” said the count, “what will you take—a glass of sherry, port, or Alicante?”
“Alicante, if you please; it is my favorite wine.”
“I have some that is very good. You will take a biscuit with it, will you not?”
“Yes, I will take a biscuit, as you are so obliging.”
Monte Cristo rang; Baptistin appeared. The count advanced to meet him.
“Well?” said he in a low voice.
“The young man is here,” said the valet de chambre in the same tone.
“Into what room did you take him?”