“Excuse me, abbé,” said the envoy of the prefect of the police, “but the light tries my eyes very much.” The abbé lowered the shade.
“Now, sir, I am listening—go on.”
“I will come at once to the point. Do you know the Count of Monte Cristo?”
“You mean Monsieur Zaccone, I presume?”
“Zaccone?—is not his name Monte Cristo?”
“Monte Cristo is the name of an estate, or, rather, of a rock, and not a family name.”
“Well, be it so—let us not dispute about words; and since M. de Monte Cristo and M. Zaccone are the same——”
“Absolutely the same.”
“Let us speak of M. Zaccone.”
“Agreed.”