'"
Until now, M. de Valorsay had cherished a hope that the loan was
only delayed, and the certainty that the decision was final,
crushed him. "My ruin's known," he thought, and feeling that his
strength was deserting him, he poured out a brimming glass of
Madeira, which he emptied at a single draught. The wine lent him
fictitious energy. Fury mounted to his brain; he lost all control
over himself, and springing up, with his face purple with rage, he
exclaimed: "It's a shame! an infamous shame! and Trigault deserves
to be severely punished. He has no business to keep a man in hot
water for three days about such a trifle. If he had said 'No' in
the first place, I should have made other arrangements, and I
shouldn't now find myself in a dilemma from which I see no
possible way of escape. No gentleman would have been guilty of
such a contemptible act--no one but a shopkeeper or a thief would
have stooped to such meanness! This is the result of admitting
these ridiculous parvenus into society, just because they happen
to have money."
It certainly hurt Pascal to hear these insults heaped upon the
baron, and it hurt him all the more since they were entirely due
to the course he had personally adopted.
However, a gesture, even a frown, might endanger the success of
his undertaking, so he preserved an impassive countenance. "I
must say that I don't understand your indignation, Monsieur le
Marquis," he said, coldly.
Pages:
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321