Three days before the wedding contract signing, around five in the afternoon, a gentle breeze rustled through the small garden outside the Count of Monte Cristo's mansion. The Count was getting ready to leave, his horses already stamping impatiently while the coachman waited on his seat, when an elegant carriage suddenly wheeled around the entrance gate.
Out stepped Andrea Cavalcanti, dressed like he was about to marry royalty itself. He asked for the Count with his usual casual confidence and bounded up the stairs to the first floor, meeting him at the top.
The Count paused when he saw the young man. As for Andrea, once he got going, nothing could stop him.
"Good morning, dear Count!" he said brightly.
"Ah, Mr. Andrea," the Count replied with a half-amused tone. "How are you?"
"Wonderful, as you can see! I came to talk to you about a thousand things. But first, were you heading out or just getting back?"
"I was leaving, actually."
