They have even
gone so far as to say that this piece of knavery brought me in an
enormous sum, and that I used Rochecotte's, Kervaulieu's, and
Coralth's names in betting against my own horse."
The baron's agitation was so great that M. de Valorsay observed
it, though he did not understand the cause. Living in the same
society with the Baroness Trigault, and knowing her story, he
thought that Coralth's name might, perhaps, have irritated the
baron. "And so," he quickly continued, "don't be surprised if,
during the coming week, you see the sale of my horses announced."
"What! you are going to sell----"
"All my horses--yes, baron. I have nineteen; and it will be very
strange if I don't get eight or ten thousand louis for the lot.
Domingo alone is worth more than forty thousand francs."
To talk of selling--of realizing something you possess--rings
ominously in people's ears. The person who talks of selling
proclaims his need of money--and often his approaching ruin. "It
will save you at least a hundred and fifty or sixty thousand
francs a year," observed the baron.
"Double it and you won't come up to the mark. Ah! my dear baron,
you have yet to learn that there is nothing so ruinous as a racing
stable. It's worse than gambling; and women, in comparison, are a
real economy. Ninette costs me less than Domingo, with his
jockey, his trainer, and his grooms.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62