United States or British Virgin Islands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The hours wore away, and yet he did not stir from his post, though nothing could have been more disagreeable to him than to remain on exhibition, as it were, at the door of a wine-shop. At last, at a little before three o'clock, the gates over the way turned upon their hinges, and a dark-blue victoria, in which a woman was seated, rolled forth into the street. "Look!" said M. Fortunat, eagerly.
I only know what you've told me which is little enough and what I've guessed. In fact, I know nothing at all." M. Fortunat reflected for a moment. "You are right, Victor," he said, at last. "So far the explanation I gave you was all that was necessary; but now that I expect more important services from you, I ought to tell you the whole truth, or at least all I know about the affair.
M. Fortunat had scarcely started off on his visit to the Vantrassons when the Marquis de Valorsay reached the Place de la Bourse. "Monsieur has gone out," said Madame Dodelin, as she opened the door. "You must be mistaken, my good woman." "No, no; my master said you would, perhaps, wait for him." "Very well; I will do so."
Then the case must go to the courts. It is true, however, that the judgment of the tribunals generally recalls the refractory client to a sense of gratitude and humility. Now our friend M. Isidore Fortunat was a hunter of missing heirs.
I would have taken my oath to that effect before the magistrate, and I would have proved it, too, if he hadn't taken her part because she's pretty for she is devilishly pretty." Even if M. Fortunat had wished to put in a word or two, he could have found no opportunity. But his guest's loquacity did not displease him; it gave him an opportunity for reflection.
That very morning, he had refused the ten francs a day that M. Fortunat had offered him, and this evening he declined the twenty sous proffered him by Madame Paul.
"Eighty-nine francs." M. Isidore Fortunat's grimace was expressive of satisfaction. "Not bad," said he, "not at all bad." Then a singular performance began. M. Fortunat called over the names of his debtors, one by one, and the cashier answered each name by reading a memorandum written against it on the margin of a list he held.
Thereupon M. Fortunat counted out a pile of these worthless securities as carefully as if he had been handling bank-notes; and his client at the same time drew out his pocketbook. "How much do I owe you?" he inquired. "Three thousand francs." The honest merchant bounded from his chair. "Three thousand francs!" he repeated. "You must be jesting. That trash is not worth a louis."
As I entered the enclosure, Isabelle, the flower-girl, handed me a rose for my button-hole. I gave her my louis but I longed to strangle her!" He paused for a moment, and then, in a frenzy of passion, he advanced toward M. Fortunat, who instinctively retreated into the protecting embrasure of a window. "And for eight months I have lived this horrible life!" he resumed.
He paused, for Victor Chupin, who had lingered behind to pay the driver, had just entered the room. "You gave me twenty francs, m'sieur," he remarked to his employer. "I paid the driver four francs and five sous, here's the change." "Keep it yourself, Victor," said M. Fortunat. What! keep fifteen francs and fifteen sous?
Word Of The Day