He believed this until one
day when on going to his lawyer for some money, that gentleman
coldly said: "You requested me to obtain one hundred thousand
francs for you, Monsieur le Marquis--but I have only been able to
procure fifty thousand--here they are. And do not hope for more.
All your real estate is encumbered beyond its value. Your
creditors will probably leave you in undisturbed possession for
another year--it will be to their interest--but when it has
elapsed they will take possession of their own, as they have a
perfect right to do." Then, with a meaning smile, the smile of a
wily prime minister, he added: "If I were in your place, Monsieur
le Marquis, I would profit by this year of grace. You undoubtedly
understand what I mean. I have the honor to wish you good-
morning."
What an awakening--after a glorious dream that had lasted for ten
years. M. de Valorsay was stunned--crushed. For three days he
remained immured in his own room, obstinately refusing to receive
any one. "The marquis is ill," was his valet's answer to every
visitor.
M. de Valorsay felt that he must have time to regain his mental
equilibrium--to look his situation calmly in the face. It was a
frightful one, for his ruin was complete, absolute. He could save
nothing from the wreck. What was to become of him? What could he
do? He set his wits to work; but he found that he was incapable
of plying any kind of avocation.
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