"How so?"
"Because he has made his will in my favor."
"Indeed?"
"On my honor."
"For how much?"
"For five hundred thousand."
"Only that! It's little enough!"
"But so it is."
"No, it cannot be!"
"Are you my friend, Caderousse?"
"Yes, in life or death."
"Well! I will tell you a secret."
"What is it?"
"But remember"
"Ah! pardieu! mute as a carp."
"Well! I think"
Andrea stopped and looked around.
"You think? Do not fear; pardieu! we are alone."
"I think I have discovered my father."
"Your true father?"
"Yes."
"Not old Cavalcanti?"
"No, for he is gone again; the true one, as you say."
"And that father is"
"Well! Caderousse, it is Monte-Cristo."
"Bah!"
"Yes, you understand, that explains all. He cannot acknowledge me openly, it appears, but he does it through M. Cavalcanti, and gives him fifty thousand francs for it."
"Fifty thousand francs for being your father! I would have done it for half that, for twenty thousand, for fifteen thousand; why did you not think of me, ungrateful man?"
"Did I know anything about it, when it was all done when I was down there?"
"Ah! truly? And you say that by his will"
"He leaves me five hundred thousand livres."
"Are you sure of it?"
"He showed it me; but that is not all―there is a codicil, as I said just now."
"Probably."
"And in that codicil he acknowledges me."
"Oh, what a good father! what an excellent father! what a very
