"It is no use," said the old man, "there is no wine."

"What, no wine?" said Dantes, turning pale, and looking
alternately at the hollow cheeks of the old man and the
empty cupboards. "What, no wine? Have you wanted money,
father?"

"I want nothing now that I have you," said the old man.

"Yet," stammered Dantes, wiping the perspiration from his
brow, -- "yet I gave you two hundred francs when I left,
three months ago."

"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 Dantes, "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?"