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?‰mile, 1836-1873

"The Count's Millions"

"
She looked at him with anxious curiosity, wondering what was to
come. "Speak, monsieur," she faltered.
"I will obey you, mademoiselle," he said, bowing again. "But
first, allow me to tell you how great my hopes have been. M. de
Chalusse's death is an irreparable misfortune for me as for
yourself. He had allowed me, mademoiselle, to aspire to the honor
of becoming a suitor for your hand. If he did not speak to you on
the subject, it was only because he wished to leave you absolutely
free, and impose upon me the difficult task of winning your
consent. But between him and me everything had been arranged in
principle, and he was to give a dowry of three millions of francs
to Mademoiselle Marguerite de Chalusse, his daughter."
"I am no longer Mademoiselle de Chalusse, Monsieur le Marquis, and
I am no longer the possessor of a fortune."
He felt the sharp sting of this retort, for the blood rose to his
cheeks, still he did not lose his composure. "If you were still
rich, mademoiselle," he replied, in the reproachful tone of an
honest man who feels that he is misunderstood, "I should, perhaps,
have strength to keep the sentiments with which you have inspired
me a secret in my own heart; but--" He rose, and with a gesture
which was not devoid of grace, and in a full ringing voice he
added: "But you are no longer the possessor of millions; and so I
may tell you, Mademoiselle Marguerite, that I love you.


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