On pretence of asking Adam's advice,
Thaddeus had left Malaga's letter with him, as if by mistake.
"Poor Thaddeus!" said Adam, as Paz disappeared, "what a misfortune for
a man of his distinction to be the plaything of the lowest kind of
circus-rider. He will lose everything, and get lower and lower, and
won't be recognizable before long. Here, read that," added the count,
giving Malaga's letter to his wife.
Clementine read the letter, which smelt of tobacco, and threw it from
her with a look of disgust.
"Thick as the bandage is over his eyes," continued Adam, "he must have
found out something; Malaga tricked him, no doubt."
"But he goes back to her," said Clementine, "and he will forgive her!
It is for such horrible women as that that you men have indulgence."
"Well, they need it," said Adam.
"Thaddeus used to show some decency--in living apart from us," she
remarked. "He had better go altogether."
"Oh, my dear angel, that's going too far," said the count, who did not
want the death of the sinner.
Paz, who knew Adam thoroughly, had enjoined him to secrecy, pretending
to excuse his dissipations, and had asked his friend to lend him a few
thousand francs for Malaga.
"He is a very firm fellow," said Adam.
"How so?" asked Clementine.
"Why, for having spent no more than ten thousand francs on her, and
letting her send him that letter before he would ask me for enough to
pay her debts.
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