He must have had a
prosperous business, for he employed six collectors in addition to
the clerks who wrote all day long in his office; and his clients
were so numerous that the concierge was often heard to complain of
the way they ran up and down the stairs, declaring that it was
worse than a procession.
To be just, we must add that M. Fortunat's appearance, manners and
conduct were of a nature to quiet all suspicions. He was some
thirty-eight years of age, extremely methodical in his habits,
gentle and refined in his manner, intelligent, very good-looking,
and always dressed in perfect taste. He was accused of being, in
business matters, as cold, as polished, and as hard as one of the
marble slabs of the Morgue; but then, no one was obliged to employ
him unless they chose to do so. This much is certain: he did not
frequent cafes or places of amusement. If he went out at all
after dinner, it was only to pass the evening at the house of some
rich client in the neighborhood. He detested the smell of
tobacco, and was inclined to be devout--never failing to attend
eight o'clock mass on Sunday mornings. His housekeeper suspected
him of matrimonial designs, and perhaps she was right.
On the evening that the Count de Chalusse was struck with apoplexy
M. Isidore Fortunat had been dining alone and was sipping a cup of
tea when the door-bell rang, announcing the arrival of a visitor.
Madame Dodelin hastened to open the door, and in walked Victor
Chupin, breathless from his hurried walk.
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