Andrea bowed low and entered the adjoining room. Monte Cristo watched until he disappeared, then pressed a hidden spring in what appeared to be a picture frame. The panel slid aside, revealing a small concealed opening that provided a perfect view into the drawing room where Cavalcanti and Andrea now stood.
The young man closed the door behind him and approached the major, who had risen at the sound of footsteps.
"Ah, my dear father!" Andrea said loudly, ensuring the Count could hear from the next room. "Is it really you?"
"How are you, my dear son?" the major replied gravely.
"After so many years of painful separation," Andrea continued in the same theatrical tone, glancing toward the door, "what happiness to finally meet again!"
"Indeed, after such a long separation."
"Won't you embrace me, sir?" Andrea asked.
"If you wish it, my son."
The two men embraced like actors on stage, each resting his head on the other's shoulder in a hollow display of affection.
