The major drew himself up to his full height.
"Why? what do you mean?"
"I mean that if there were, it would be impossible to draw up with impunity such deeds as these. In France, my dear sir, for half of this you would be quickly dispatched to Toulon for five years, for change of air."
"Will you be good enough to explain your meaning?" said the major, endeavoring as much as possible to assume an air of the greatest majesty.
"My dear M. Cavalcanti," said Andrea, taking the major by the arm in a confidential manner, "how much are you paid for being my father?" The major was about to speak, when Andrea continued in a low voice: "Nonsense! I am going to set you an example of confidence; they give me fifty thousand francs a year to be your son; consequently you can understand that it is not at all likely I shall ever deny my parent." The major looked anxiously around him.
"Make yourself easy, we are quite alone," said Andrea; "besides, we are conversing in Italian."
"Well, then," replied the major, "they paid me fifty thousand francs down."
"M. Cavalcanti," said Andrea, "do you believe in fairy-tales?"
"I used not to do so, but I really feel now almost obliged to have faith in them."
"You have, then, been induced to alter your opinion; you have had some proofs of their truth?" The major drew from his pocket a handful of gold.
"Most palpable proofs," said he, "as you may perceive."
"You think, then, that I may rely on the count's promises?"
"Certainly I do."
"You are sure he will keep his word with me?"
"To the letter; but at the same time, remember, we must continue to play our respective parts. I as a tender father"
"And I as a dutiful son, as they choose that I shall be descended from you."
"Who do you mean by they?"
"Ma foi! I can hardly tell, but I was alluding to those who wrote the letter; you received one, did you not f"
"Yes."
"From whom?"
"From a certain Abbe Busoni."
"Have you any knowledge of him?"
"No, I have never seen him."
"What did he say in the letter?"
