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?‰mile, 1836-1873

"The Count's Millions"

I will never
truckle to the men whom I have eclipsed for fifteen years. No,
never! I would rather die, or even commit the greatest crime!"
He suddenly checked himself, a trifle astonished, perhaps, by his
own plain-speaking; and, for a moment, he and M. Fortunat looked
into each other's eyes, striving to divine their respective secret
thoughts.
The marquis was the first to speak. "And so," said he, in a tone
which he strove to make persuasive, but which was threatening
instead, "it is settled--your decision is final?"
"Final."
"You will not even condescend to listen to my explanation?"
"It would be a loss of time."
On receiving this cruel reply, M. de Valorsay struck the desk such
a formidable blow with his clenched fist that several bundles of
papers fell to the floor. His anger was not feigned now. "What
are you plotting, then?" he exclaimed; "and what do you intend to
do? What is your object in betraying me? Take care! It is my life
that I am going to defend, and as truly as there is a God in
heaven, I shall defend it well. A man who is determined to blow
his brains out if he is defeated, is a terribly dangerous
adversary. Woe to you, if I ever find you standing between me and
the Count de Chalusse's millions!"
Every drop of blood had fled from M. Fortunat's face, still his
mien was composed and dignified. "You do wrong to threaten me,"
said he. "I don't fear you in the least.


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