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"People say it is the eighth wonder of the world; and upon my word, it must be wonderful; the work has been going on for five years," responded the man. "To whom does it belong?" "To a young millionaire, who has spent his money lavishly and very foolishly, I believe." "Do you know his name?" "I believe the name is Saint Harem or Saint-Herem " "There is no more doubt," murmured the old man.
This equipage was so elegant and rich that it attracted general attention and who do you suppose was seated in that carriage? My old classmate Saint-Herem, more brilliant and handsome than ever!" "It seems to me he must be a reckless spendthrift." "Wait till I have finished my story, father.
The equipage stopped abruptly, and while the two little pages alighted from their seats to hold the horses by the bridles, Saint-Herem leaped from the carriage, ran toward me, and fairly embraced me in his joy to find me again after so long a separation. I was dressed like a poor devil of a notary student, as I am; with my maroon redingote, my black trousers and laced shoes.
"I have no doubt of it, my poor Louis," said Saint-Herem sympathizingly, "for to place yourself in the clutches of such a rascal as Porquin, is to sell yourself to the devil! But tell me what has happened? You have always been good and industrious, I know, but you may have contracted some debt or committed some slight folly. What may seem enormous to you, may be only a trifle to me.
Madame de Saint-Herem was the most singular creature in the world, not only in face but in manners. She half boiled her thigh one day in the Seine, near Fontainebleau, where she was bathing. The river was too cold; she wished to warm it, and had a quantity of water heated and thrown into the stream just above her.
Florestan de Saint-Herem had uttered the words "I am ruined" with so much simplicity and carelessness that the countess gazed at him dumbfounded for a moment, unable to believe what she had heard. "What!" she finally gasped, "you are " "Ruined! completely ruined!" he repeated. "My uncle left me five millions five years ago; I have spent it all, plus eighteen hundred thousand francs.
The countess, who had drawn a little apart, now again placed her hand on Florestan's arm and gently led him a little away from her aunt and M. de Riancourt. "Monsieur de Saint-Herem," she said with emotion, as they walked slowly on, "your idea is not only charming, but of a touching delicacy.
"A woman who loved a poor man like you for a whole year, does not yield to an old rascal like Porquin in one day. I tell you he lies!" And to Louis' great astonishment, Saint-Herem called aloud, "Hi, there! de la Miraudière!" "Florestan! what are you doing?" remonstrated Louis, as the usurer appeared.
That worthy man, Saint-Herem, died this year at his house in Auvergne, to which he had retired. Everybody liked him; and M. de Rochefoucauld had reproached the King for not making him Chevalier of the Order. The King had confounded him with Courtine, his brother-in-law, for they had married two sisters; but when put right had not given the favour.
Ah! what a cruel, frightful accident!" "Bead this, Florestan," said Louis, with tears in his eyes, giving his friend the testament left by his father, "and you will understand my bitter grief." Saint-Herem took the paper and, seating himself by the window, read it to the end. "Do you think I can now blame his avarice?" asked Louis, when his friend had finished.
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