de Gordon-
Chalusse, with a count's coronet in one of the corners.
Thus occupied, time flew by so quickly that he was a trifle late
in keeping his appointment with his dear friend the marquis.
Wilkie found M. de Valorsay as he had left him--in his smoking-
room, talking with the Viscount de Coralth. Not that the marquis
had been idle, but it had barely taken him an hour to set in
motion the machinery which he had had in complete readiness since
the evening before. "Victory!" cried Wilkie, as he appeared on
the threshold. "It was a hard battle, but I asserted my rights.
I am the acknowledged heir! the millions are mine!" And without
giving his friends time to congratulate him, he began to describe
his interview with Madame d'Argeles, presenting his conduct in the
most odious light possible, pretending he had indulged in all
sorts of harsh rejoinders, and making himself out to be "a man of
bronze," or "a block of marble," as he said.
"You are certainly more courageous than I fancied," said M. de
Valorsay gravely, when the narrative was ended.
"Is that really so?"
"It is, indeed. Now the world is before you. Let your story be
noised abroad--and it will be noised abroad--and you will become a
hero. Imagine the amazement of Paris when it learns that Lia
d'Argeles was a virtuous woman, who sacrificed her reputation for
the sake of her son--a martyr, whose disgrace was only a shameful
falsehood invented by two men of rank to increase the attractions
of their gambling-den! It will take the newspapers a month to
digest this strange romance.
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