"You must wonder at
my delay, my dear," he resumed, "but it was not my fault. I was
at Madame de Rochecote's when I was informed that your messenger
was at home waiting for me. I returned, and heard the frightful
news. It was a thunderbolt. A friend of thirty years' standing!
A thousand thunderclaps! I acted as his second when he fought his
first duel. Poor Chalusse!
A man as sturdy as an oak, and who ought to have outlived us all.
But it is always so; the best soldiers always file by first at
dress-parade."
The Marquis de Valorsay had beaten a retreat, the magistrate was
hidden in a dark corner, and Mademoiselle Marguerite, who was
accustomed to the General's manner, remained silent, being well
aware that there was no chance of putting in a word as long as he
had possession of the floor. "Fortunately, poor Chalusse was a
prudent man," continued M. de Fondege. "He loved you devotedly,
my dear, as his testamentary provisions must have shown you."
"His provisions?"
"Yes, most certainly. Surely you don't mean to try and conceal
anything from one who knows all. Ah! you will be one of the
greatest catches in Europe, and you will have plenty of suitors."
Mademoiselle Marguerite sadly shook her head. "You are mistaken,
General; the count left no will, and has made no provision
whatever for me."
M. de Fondege trembled, turned a trifle pale, and in a faltering
voice, exclaimed: "What! You tell me that? Chalusse! A thousand
thunderclaps! It isn't possible.
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