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Updated: May 7, 2025
Less than ever did Chupin now forgive Wilkie for the insult he had cast in the face of Madame Lia d'Argeles, who was probably his mother. As for the play, M. Fortunat's emissary did not hear twenty words of it. He was so overcome with fatigue that he soon fell asleep. The noise and bustle of each entr'acte aroused him a little, but he did not thoroughly wake up until the close of the performance.
Coffee was served, and when the waiter had closed the door, M. Casimir drew the letter, the scraps of which were fixed together, from his pocket, and unfolded it, saying: "Attention; I'm going to read." This did not suit M. Fortunat's fancy.
"I should reply that I was not a member of the Chalusse family, and that would end it. Startled by the news of my brother's death, I allowed my secret to escape me. I shall know how to keep it in future." Anger succeeded astonishment in M. Fortunat's mind. "Madame, madame, what can you be thinking of?" he cried, impetuously.
He saw plainly enough that this honest impulse on M. Fortunat's part came from disappointed avarice and wounded vanity, and that the agent would have allowed the Marquis de Valorsay to carry out his infamous scheme without any compunctions of conscience, providing he, himself, had not been injured by it. Still, the young fellow did not allow his real feelings to appear on his face.
He was in such desperate straits that he had almost determined to blow his brains out before the hope of marrying you entered his mind." "Ah!" thought Chupin, "my employer is well under way." This was indeed the case. The name of Valorsay was quite sufficient to set all M. Fortunat's bile in motion. All thought of his ex-client irritated him beyond endurance.
I enjoyed most of all the performances at the Theater an der Wien, at which they were acting a grotesque fairy play called Die Abenteuer Fortunat's zu Wasser und zu Land, in which a cab was called on the shores of the Black Sea and which made a tremendous impression on me. About the music I was more doubtful.
Chupin had just remembered one of M. Isidore Fortunat's debtors, a man whom he often visited in the hope of extorting some trifling amount from him, and who was employed in the Central office of the Paris Cab Company. "If any one can help me out of this difficulty, it must be that fellow," he said to himself. "I hope I shall find him at his desk! Come, Victor, my boy, you must look alive!"
And as this subject was anything but pleasant, he hastened away, exclaiming, "Get to bed, my dear extortioner. Au revoir. And, above all, remember your promise." "My respects, Monsieur le Marquis." But when the door closed, M. Fortunat's expression immediately changed. "Ah! you insult me!" he muttered sullenly. "You rob me, and you call me a scoundrel into the bargain.
He was apparently furious with passion, but in reality he was perfectly self-possessed. The best proof that can be given of his coolness is that he was carefully studying M. Fortunat's face, and trying to discover the agent's real intentions under his meaningless words.
However, her heart beat more quickly, and she felt that she was turning pale when, at Madame Dodelin's invitation, she at last entered M. Fortunat's private office. She took in the room and its occupants with a single glance. The handsome appointments of the office surprised her, for she had expected to see a den.
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