When shall I have my revenge?
Your friend,
VALORSAY."
When he had finished this letter he read it over three or four
times, asking himself if this were the style of composition that
very fashionable folks employ in repaying their debts. To tell
the truth, he doubted it. In the rough draft which he penned at
first, he had written bezique, but in the copy he wrote piquet,
which he deemed a more aristocratic game. "However," said he, "no
one will examine it closely!"
Then, as soon as the ink was dry, he folded the letter and slipped
it into an envelope with a hundred franc-note which he drew from
an old pocketbook. He next addressed the envelope as follows:
"Monsieur le Vicomte de Coralth, En Ville," and having completed
his preparations, he paid his score, and hastened to Brebant's.
Two waiters were standing at the doorway, and, showing them the
letter, he politely asked: "Do you happen to know this name? A
gentleman dropped this letter on leaving your place last evening.
I ran after him to return it; but I couldn't overtake him."
The waiters examined the address. "Coralth!" they replied. "We
scarcely know him. He isn't a regular customer, but he comes here
occasionally."
"And where does he live?"
"Why do you wish to know?"
"So as to take him this letter, to be sure!"
The waiters shrugged their shoulders.
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