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Updated: May 7, 2025
M. Isidore Fortunat's appearance was incontestably respectable, but they were well aware that those strange men styled detectives are perfectly conversant with the art of dressing to perfection. So the hotelkeeper quickly decided on his course. "Your idea is an excellent one," he said to M. Fortunat.
Every drop of blood had fled from M. Fortunat's face, still his mien was composed and dignified. "You do wrong to threaten me," said he. "I don't fear you in the least. If I were your enemy, I should bring suit against you for the forty thousand francs you owe me. I should not obtain my money, of course, but I could shatter the tottering edifice of your fortune by a single blow.
His heart had been full of hope when he reached the Asnieres Road, but he went away gloomy and despondent; and quite unconscious of the darkness, the mud, and the rain, which was again falling, he silently plodded along in the middle of the highway. Chupin was obliged to stop him at the city gate, and remind him that the cab was waiting. "That's true," was M. Fortunat's only answer.
The old legend of Achilles's heel will be eternally true. A man may be humble or powerful, feeble or strong, but there are none of us without some weak spot in our armor, a spot vulnerable beyond all others, a certain place where wounds prove most dangerous and painful. M. Isidore Fortunat's weak place was his cash-box.
To be just, we must add that M. Fortunat's appearance, manners and conduct were of a nature to quiet all suspicions. He was some thirty-eight years of age, extremely methodical in his habits, gentle and refined in his manner, intelligent, very good-looking, and always dressed in perfect taste.
Zounds! madame, this will teach me not to meddle with what doesn't concern me, in future. So, good-bye, my dear lady. You'll learn some day, to your cost, the real nature of this villain of a Coralth whom you now defend so warmly." This name of Coralth was also one of those which were engraven upon M. Fortunat's memory; and yet he did not notice it at the moment.
He was indeed in the habit of treating all those whom he considered his inferiors with supercilious sufficiency. The clock on M. Fortunat's mantel-shelf struck eleven at last and the marquis rose to his feet with a muttered oath. "This is too much!" he growled, angrily.
At that moment, after a night passed in meditating upon his mother's prophetic warnings, Chupin was again beset by the same scruples which had so greatly disturbed him on the previous evening. However, they soon vanished when he heard the wine-vendor, in reply to M. Fortunat's skilful questions, begin to relate all he knew concerning Madame Lia d'Argeles, and the scandalous doings at her house.
Your credit is still good; but it is being slowly undermined and the indiscretion of a friend who chanced to say: "I think Valorsay is hard up," might fire the train, and then you'd explode." M. Fortunat's embarrassment was really painful to witness. He was not usually wanting in courage, but the events of the evening had shaken his confidence and his composure.
According as his humor was good or bad, he called him "my dear extortioner," "Mons. Fortunat," or "Master Twenty-per-cent." But though these sneers and insults drove the obsequious smile from M. Fortunat's lips, he was quite capable of including them in the bill under the head of sundries.
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