My manager declares that the
twenty-three thousand francs I won last year, cost me at least
fifty thousand."
Was he boasting, or was he speaking the truth? The baron was
engaged in a rapid calculation. "What does Valorsay spend a
year?" he was saying to himself. "Let us say two hundred and
fifty thousand francs for his stable; forty thousand francs for
Ninette Simplon; eighty thousand for his household expenses, and
at least thirty thousand for personal matters, travelling, and
play. All this amounts to something like four hundred and thirty
thousand francs a year. Does his income equal that sum? Certainly
not. Then he must have been living on the principal--he is
ruined."
Meanwhile the marquis gayly continued: "You see, I'm going to make
a change in my mode of life. Ah! it surprises you! But one must
make an end of it, sooner or later. I begin to find a bachelor
life not so very pleasant after all; there is rheumatism in
prospect, and my digestion is becoming impaired--in short, I feel
that it is time for marriage, baron; and--I am about to marry."
"You!"
"Yes, I. What, haven't you heard of it, yet? It has been talked
of at the club for three days or more."
"No, this is the first intimation I have received of it. It is
true, however, that I have not been to the club for three days. I
have made a wager with Kami-Bey, you know--that rich Turk--and as
our sittings are eight or ten hours long, we play in his
apartments at the Grand Hotel.
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