And he had some reason to hope
that he would be able to do so. Having been employed by M. de
Chalusse when the latter was seeking Mademoiselle Marguerite, M.
Fortunat had gained some valuable information respecting his
client, and the additional particulars which he had obtained from
Madame Vantrasson elated him to such an extent that more than once
he exclaimed: "Ah, well! it is, perhaps, a blessing in disguise,
after all."
Still, M. Isidore Fortunat slept but little after his stormy
interview with the Marquis de Valorsay. A loss of forty thousand
francs is not likely to impart a roseate hue to one's dreams--and
M. Fortunat prized his money as if it had been the very marrow of
his bones. By way of consolation, he assured himself that he
would not merely regain the sum, but triple it; and yet this
encouragement did not entirely restore his peace of mind. The
gain was only a possibility, and the loss was a certainty. So he
twisted, and turned, and tossed on his bed as if it had been a hot
gridiron, exhausting himself in surmises, and preparing his mind
for the difficulties which he would be obliged to overcome.
His plan was a simple one, but its execution was fraught with
difficulties. "I must discover M. de Chalusse's sister, if she is
still living--I must discover her children, if she is dead," he
said to himself. It was easy to SAY this; but how was he to do
it? How could he hope to find this unfortunate girl, who had
abandoned her home thirty years previously, to fly, no one knew
where, or with whom? How was he to gain any idea of the life she
had lived, or the fate that had befallen her? At what point on the
social scale, and in what country, should he begin his
investigations? These daughters of noble houses, who desert the
paternal roof in a moment of madness, generally die most miserably
after a wretched life.
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