She now understood why
he had declared himself ready to brave public opinion--why he had
proved willing to accept his share of the past ignominy. It was
not his mother's, but the Count de Chalusse's estate that he
claimed. "Ah! so you've heard of that," she said, in a tone of
bitter irony. And then, remembering M. Isidore Fortunat, she
asked: "Some one has sold you this valuable secret. How much have
you promised to pay him in case of success?"
Although Wilkie prided himself on being very clever, he did not
pretend to be a diplomatist, and, indeed, he was greatly
disconcerted by this question; still, recovering himself, he
replied: "It doesn't matter how I obtained the information--
whether I paid for it, or whether it cost me nothing--but I know
that you are a Chalusse, and that you are the heiress of the
count's property, which is valued at eight or ten millions of
francs. Do you deny it?"
Madame d'Argeles sadly shook her head. "I deny nothing," she
replied, "but I am about to tell you something which will destroy
all your plans and extinguish your hopes. I am resolved,
understand, and my resolution is irrevocable, never to assert my
rights. To receive this fortune, I should be obliged to confess
that Lia d'Argeles is a Chalusse--and that is a confession which
no consideration whatever will wring from me."
She imagined that this declaration would silence and discomfit
Wilkie, but she was mistaken.
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