"Yes, my dear miser, neither more nor less. Only for private
reasons, which he did not explain, the count stipulates that only
two hundred thousand francs shall appear in the marriage contract.
The remaining eighteen hundred thousand francs, he gives to me
unreservedly and unconditionally. Upon my word, I think this very
charming. How does it strike you?"
M. Fortunat made no reply. M. de Valorsay's gayety, instead of
cheering, saddened him. "Ah! my fine fellow," he thought, "you
would sing a different song if you knew that by this time M. de
Chalusse is probably dead, and that most likely Mademoiselle
Marguerite has only her beautiful eyes left her, and will dim them
in weeping for her vanished millions."
But this brilliant scion of the aristocracy had no suspicion of
the real state of affairs, for he continued: "You will say,
perhaps, it is strange, that I, Ange-Marie Robert Dalbou, Marquis
de Valorsay, should marry a girl whose father and mother no one
knows, and whose only name is Marguerite. In this respect it is
true that the match is not exactly a brilliant one. Still, as it
will appear that she merely has a fortune of two hundred thousand
francs, no one will accuse me of marrying for money on the
strength of my name. On the contrary, it will seem to be a love-
match, and people will suppose that I have grown young again." He
paused, incensed by M. Fortunat's lack of enthusiasm. "Judging
from your long face, Master Twenty-per-cent, one would fancy you
doubted my success," he said.
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