k his head: "Ah! so you doubt
it!" he cried. "Very well; now it is your turn to listen. Yesterday I
had a long conference with the Count de Chalusse, and everything has
been settled. We exchanged our word of honor, Master Twenty-per-cent.
The count does things in a princely fashion; he gives Mademoiselle
Marguerite two millions."

"Two millions!" the other repeated like an echo.

"Yes, my dear miser, neither more nor less. Only for private reasons,
which he did not explain, the count stipulates that only two hundred
thousand francs shall appear in the marriage contract. The remaining
eighteen hundred thousand francs, he gives to me unreservedly and
unconditionally. Upon my word, I think this very charming. How does it
strike you?"

M. Fortunat made no reply. M. de Valorsay's gayety, instead of cheering,
saddened him. "Ah! my fine fellow," he thought, "you would sing a
different song if you knew that by this time M. de Chalusse is probably
dead, and that most likely Mademoiselle Marguerite has only her
beautiful eyes left her, and will dim them in weeping for her vanished
millions."

But this brilliant scion of the aristocracy had no suspicion of the
real state of affairs, for he continued: "You will say, perhaps, it is
strange, that I, Ange-Marie Robert Dalbou, Marquis de Valorsay, should
marry a girl whose father and mother no one knows, and whose only name
is Marguerite. In this respect it is true that the match is not exactly
a brilliant one. Still, as it will appear that she merely has a fortune
of two hundred thousand francs, no one will accuse me of marrying for
money on the strength of my name. On the contrary, it will seem to be a
love-match, and people will suppose that I have grown young again." He
paused, incensed by M. Fortunat's lack of enthusiasm. "Judging from
your long face, Master Twenty-per-cent, one would fancy you doubted my
success," he said.

"It is always best to doubt," replied his adviser, philosophically.

The marquis shrugged his shoulders. "Even when one has triumphed over
all obstacles?" he asked sneeringly.

"Yes."

"Then, tell me, if you please, what prevents this marriage from being a
foregone conclusion?"

"Mademoiselle Marguerite's consent, Monsieur le Marquis."

It was as if a glass of ice-water had been thrown in M. de Valorsay's
face. He started, turned as pale as death, and then exclaimed: "I shall
have that; I am sure of it."

You could not say that M. Fortunat was a