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Updated: June 18, 2025
"But what are you going to do with the other woman?" Two women: M. Ferraud saw the ripple widen and draw near. One woman he could not understand, but two simplified everything. The drivers and two women. "The other?" said Breitmann. "She is of no importance." M. Ferraud shook his head. "Oh, well; this will be, your private affair. Captain Grasset will arrive from Nice to-morrow night.
And, indeed, he naturally found the reason in the thirst for money, which taints almost every Parisian woman; and as a fine fortune was needed to support the pretensions of Comte Ferraud, the secretary sometimes fancied that he saw in the Countess' greed a consequence of her devotion to a husband with whom she still was in love.
What had he done, or what was he going to do, that France should watch him? There was no doubt in his mind now; Breitmann had known of this treasure and had come to The Pines simply to put his hands on the casket. M. Ferraud had tried to forestall him. This much of the riddle was plain. But the pivots upon which these things turned! There was something more than a treasure in the balance.
M. Ferraud did not smoke, but he dissipated to the extent of drinking three small cups of coffee after dinner. "You are right," he acknowledged there had been a slight dispute relative to the methods of roasting the berry "Europe does not roast its coffee, it burns it. The aroma, the bouquet! I am beaten." "So am I," Fitzgerald reflected sadly, snatching a vision of the girl's animated face.
M. Ferraud was a modest man. That his exquisite brochure on lepidopterous insects was in nearly all the public libraries of the world only gratified, but added nothing to his vanity. As it oftentimes happens to a man whose mind is occupied with other things, the admiral, who received M. Ferraud in the library, saw nothing in the name to kindle his recollection.
"Father," cried Laura, with a burst of generosity which not only warmed her heart but her cheeks, "why not find this poor, deluded young man and give him the treasure?" "What, and ruin him morally as well as politically? No, Laura; with money he might become a menace." "On the contrary," put in M. Ferraud; "with money he might be made to put away his mad dream.
I wanted to harry them. They would have left me free. She was to be a pawn. I shouldn't have hurt her." "You do not care to return to Germany?" "Nor to France, M. Ferraud." "There's a wide world outside. You will find room enough," diffidently. "An outlaw?" "Of a kind." "Be easy. I haven't even the wish to be buried there. There is more to the story, more than you know.
"That is because he is mine," explained M. Ferraud in a whisper. They were all capable horsemen, and on this journey spared their horses only when absolutely necessary. The great American signori were in a hurry. They arrived at Carghese at five in the afternoon. The admiral was for pushing on, driving all night. He stormed, but the drivers were obdurate.
Has not France always represented to them a purse into which they might thrust their dishonest hands to pay for their base pleasures? Oh, beware of the conspirator whose sole portion in life is that of pleasure! I wish that I could see this young man and tell him all I know. If I could only warn him." Breitmann brushed his sleeve. "I am really disappointed in your climax, Mr. Ferraud."
"For a desperate man who has thrown his all on this one chance, he will find a hundred ways of returning." A carriage came round one of the pinnacled calenches. It was empty. M. Ferraud casually noted the number. He was not surprised. He had been waiting for this same vehicle. It was Breitmann's, but the man driving it was not the man who had driven it out of Ajaccio. He was an Evisan.
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