"
"Alas! I did apply to him for assistance several times----"
"With what result?"
"The first time I went to him he received me; I told him my
troubles, and he gave me bank-notes to the amount of five thousand
francs."
M. Fortunat raised his hands to the ceiling. "Five thousand
francs!" he repeated, in a tone of astonishment; "this count must
be very rich----"
"So rich, monsieur, that he doesn't know how much he's worth. He
owns, nobody knows how many houses in Paris, chateaux in every
part of the country, entire villages, forests--his gold comes in
by the shovelful."
The spurious clerk closed his eyes, as if he were dazzled by this
vision of wealth.
"The second time I went to the count's house," resumed Madame
Vantrasson, "I didn't see him, but he sent me a thousand francs.
The third and last time they gave me twenty francs at the door,
and told me that the count had gone on a journey. I understood
that I could hope for no further help from him. Besides, all the
servants had been changed. One morning, without any apparent
reason, M. de Chalusse dismissed all the old servants, so they
told me. He even sent away the concierge and the housekeeper."
"Why didn't you apply to his wife?"
"M. de Chalusse isn't married. He never has been married."
From the expression of solicitude upon her guest's features,
Madame Vantrasson supposed he was racking his brain to discover
some mode of escape from her present difficulties.
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