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As for you, Monsieur de Saint-Herem, I have examined your securities and will place the two hundred louis in your hands this evening and now that you have learned the conditions I have proposed to your friend, I am sure you must consider them reasonable." "I don't want your money," cried Louis. "Do you believe me capable of discounting my father's death?" "But, my dear client, allow me "
Remember the good old miser then, and bless his avarice; it gives me the pleasure of giving you work in the building of a magnificent monument, and to you it gives ample salaries, honestly earned!" "All the same, Michel, we must not forget M. Saint-Herem and give him a share of our gratitude." "You are right, Juliette. He is a noble young man, and he and his uncle make a famous pair."
M. Saint-Herem did all that, and it was he who welcomed us so kindly when we came this evening." "That may be, Juliette. But whenever M. Saint Herem came into the place to watch us at work, he never failed to say: 'My children, were it not for the riches I have inherited, I could not give you this work and pay you as you deserve.
I begged him to wait till this evening, as he could then see the reception-rooms to more advantage but I did not then anticipate the honor of receiving you." "Monsieur de Saint-Herem," she said, still hesitatingly, "you have been very indulgent to me will you allow me one more question?"
"My dear father, Saint-Herem and myself were close friends at college, and you must judge of him by what I shall relate. I had lost sight of him for years, when, as I was passing along the boulevard six months ago, I saw everybody turn to look at something on the road, and I did likewise. I then perceived two magnificent horses harnessed to a phaeton, with two tiny domestics behind.
"Saint-Herem!" exclaimed Louis, recognizing his old friend. "You here!" cried Florestan de Saint-Herem, grasping the young man's hand and gazing curiously into his pale face. "May the devil take him for coming in at this moment!" muttered the usurer between his clenched teeth, as he readjusted the collar of his dressing-gown.
But the old mulatto's amazement was still more augmented by another singular contrast at this moment. He had suddenly met a group of men in evening dress, with many decorations in their buttonholes, accompanied by women in elegant toilettes. A short distance further on was Florestan Saint-Herem, more brilliant and gay than ever in this atmosphere of luxury and splendor.
The day was drawing to a close, when he was finally aroused from his grief by a knock at his door and the well known voice of Florestan de Saint-Herem. Quickly unbolting the door of the gloomy attic chamber, he found himself in his friend's arms, who cried sympathetically: "Louis! my poor Louis! I know all. The concierge has just told me of your father's death.
"Monsieur de Saint-Herem, you have my word," interrupted the countess, with a scornful glance at the duke. "This purchase is a personal matter; my steward will negotiate with yours to-morrow, at any time you may wish."
Therefore, as I have the presumption of playing admirably with millions, I would canonize my uncle, that heroic martyr of avarice, if distributive justice would only place in my hands the wonderful instruments of prodigality he is manufacturing by hoarding his money." "Ah! heavens!" cried Louis, suddenly gazing at his friend with a horrified expression. "What is it?" asked Saint-Herem, quietly.
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