And so you are to be married," the
baron continued, after a slight pause. "Ah, well! I know one
person who won't be pleased."
"Who, pray?"
"Ninette Simplon."
M. de Valorsay laughed heartily. "As if that would make any
difference to me!" he exclaimed. And then in a most confidential
manner he resumed: "She will soon be consoled. Ninette Simplon is
a shrewd girl--a girl whom I have always suspected of having an
account book in place of a heart. I know she has at least three
hundred thousand francs safely invested; her furniture and
diamonds are worth as much more. Why should she regret me? Add to
this that I have promised her fifty thousand francs to dry her
tears with on my wedding-day, and you will understand that she
really longs to see me married."
"I understand," replied the baron; "Ninette Simplon won't trouble
you. But I can't understand why you should talk of economy on the
eve of a marriage which will no doubt double your fortune; for I'm
sure you won't surrender your liberty without good and substantial
reasons."
"You are mistaken."
"How mistaken?"
"Well, I won't hesitate to confess to you, my dear baron, that the
girl I am about to marry hasn't a penny of her own. My future
wife has no dowry save her black eyes--but they are certainly
superb ones."
This assertion seemed to disprove Pascal's statements.
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