After
such a proof of confidence the marquis could hardly have been
dissatisfied with his adviser; in point of fact, he was delighted
with him, and all the more so, as this invaluable man always
treated him with extreme deference, verging on servility. And in
M. de Valorsay's eyes this was a great consideration; for he was
becoming more arrogant and more irascible in proportion as his
right to be so diminished. Secretly disgusted with himself, and
deeply humiliated by the shameful intrigue to which he had
stooped, he took a secret satisfaction in crushing his accomplice
with his imaginary superiority and lordly disdain. According as
his humor was good or bad, he called him "my dear extortioner,"
"Mons. Fortunat," or "Master Twenty-per-cent." But though these
sneers and insults drove the obsequious smile from M. Fortunat's
lips, he was quite capable of including them in the bill under the
head of sundries.
The unvarying deference and submission which M. de Valorsay's
adviser displayed made his failure to keep the present appointment
all the more remarkable. Such neglect of the commonest rules of
courtesy was inconceivable on the part of so polite a man; and the
marquis's anger gradually changed to anxiety. "What can have
happened?" he thought.
He was trying to decide whether he should leave or stay, when he
heard a key grate in the lock of the outer door, and then some
quick steps along the ante-room.
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