I have an estate four leagues from Paris, which brings
me in eighty thousand francs (3,200_l._) a year? That will suffice, I
should think, for what you call your securities?"

"Yes, madame, when the mortgage is properly secured."

"What do you mean? Some formality of law, no doubt? Do it, sir, do it."

"Such a deed cannot be drawn up in less than a fortnight, and we must
have your husband's assent, madame."

"But the estate is mine, and mine only," said the duchess, impatiently.

"No matter, madame, you have a husband; and mortgage deeds are very long
and very minute."

"But, once again, sir, you will not ask me to believe that it is so
difficult to find one hundred thousand francs in two hours?"

"Then, madame, apply to the notary you usually employ, or your steward;
as for me, it is impossible."

"I have my reasons for keeping this secret," said Madame de Lucenay,
haughtily. "You know the rogues who seek to take advantage of M. de
Saint-Remy, and that is the reason why I address myself to you."

"Your confidence does me much honour, madame; but I cannot do what you
ask of me."

"You have not this sum?"

"I have much more than that sum, in bank-notes or bright and good gold,
here in my chest."

"Then why waste time about it? You require my signature, I suppose?
Well, let me give it to you, and let us end the matter."

"Even admitting, madame, that you were Madame de Lucenay--"

"Come to the Hotel de Lucenay in one hour, sir, and I will sign whatever
may be requisite."

"And will the duke sign, also?"

"I do not understand, sir."

"Your signature, alone, would be worthless to me, madame."

Jacques Ferrand delighted, with cruel joy, in the manifest impatience of
the duchess, who, under the appearance of coolness and hauteur,
repressed really painful agony.

For an instant she was at her wits' end. On the previous evening, her
jeweller had advanced her a considerable sum on her jewels, some of
which had been confided to Morel, the lapidary. This sum had been
employed in paying the bills of M. de Saint-Remy, and thus disarming the
other creditors; M. Dubreuil, the farmer of Arnouville, was more than a
year's rent in advance on the farm; and, then, the time was so
pressing. Still more unfortunately for Madame de Lucenay, two of her
friends, to whom she could have had recourse in this moment of distress,
were then absent from Paris. In her eyes, the viscount was innocent of
the forgery. He had said, a