But she must marry me first;
and this scornful maiden will not grant me her hand unless I can
convince her of my love and disinterestedness."
"But your rival?"
M. de Valorsay gave a nervous start, but quickly controlled
himself. "He no longer exists. Read this day's Figaro, and you
will be edified. I have no rival now. If I can only conceal my
financial embarrassment a little longer, she is mine. A
friendless and homeless girl cannot defend herself long in Paris--
especially when she has an adviser like Madame Leon. Oh! I shall
win her! I shall have her!--she is a necessity to me. Now you can
judge if it would be wise on your part to deprive me of your
assistance. Would you like to know what I want? Simply this--the
means to sustain me two or three months longer--some thirty
thousand francs. You can procure the money--will you? It would
make, in all, seventy thousand francs that I should owe you, and I
will promise to pay you two hundred and fifty thousand if I
succeed--and I shall succeed! Such profit is worth some risk.
Reflect, and decide. But no more subterfuges, if you please. Let
your answer be plain yes or no."
Without a second's hesitation, M. Fortunat replied, "No."
The flush on the marquis's face deepened, and his voice became a
trifle harsher; but that was all. "Confess, then, that you have
resolved to ruin me," he said. "You refuse before you have heard
me to the end.
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