"
"Absolutely." And seeing a lingering doubt in his client's eyes,
M. Fortunat added, "You have my word of honor!"
The clock struck three. The marquis took his hat and started
toward the door. But M. Fortunat, in whose heart the word
scoundrel was still rankling, stopped him. "Are you going to that
lady's house now? What is she called? I've forgotten her name.
Ah, yes, I remember now. Madame d'Argeles, isn't she called?
It's at her place, I believe, that the reputation of Mademoiselle
Marguerite's favored lover is to be ruined."
The marquis turned angrily. "What do you take me for, Master
Twenty-per-cent?" he rudely asked. "That is one of those things
no well-bred gentleman will do himself. But in Paris people can
be found to do any kind of dirty work, if you are willing to pay
them for it."
"Then how will you know the result?"
"Why, twenty minutes after the affair is over, M. de Coralth will
be at my house. He is there even now, perhaps." And as this
subject was anything but pleasant, he hastened away, exclaiming,
"Get to bed, my dear extortioner. Au revoir. And, above all,
remember your promise."
"My respects, Monsieur le Marquis."
But when the door closed, M. Fortunat's expression immediately
changed. "Ah! you insult me!" he muttered sullenly. "You rob me,
and you call me a scoundrel into the bargain. You shall pay
dearly for it, my fine fellow, no matter what may happen!"
IV.
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