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With the assistance of his vile tool, Coralth, he has formed a league, offensive and defensive, with the son of the Count de Chalusse's sister, who is the only acknowledged heir at this moment a young man destitute of heart and intelligence, and inordinately vain, but neither better nor worse than many others who figure respectably in society. His name is Wilkie Gordon.
Vain and rapacious in disposition, he consoled himself by refusing to obey any one save his employer, by envying him with his whole heart, and by cursing fate for not having made him the Count de Chalusse instead of the Count de Chalusse's servant. As he received high wages, he served passably well; but he employed the best part of his energy in watching the count.
How am I to obtain possession of the Count de Chalusse's estate? That's what I am after! It's rightfully mine, and I'm determined to have it, as I told you once before. And when I've once taken anything into my head " He paused, for he could no longer face the scornful glances that Madame d'Argeles was giving him.
We have a daughter!" But even this intelligence was scarcely sufficient to revive her husband's drooping spirits. He had almost fainted when he heard the earth falling on M. de Chalusse's coffin; and this display of weakness on the part of a man adorned with such terrible and ferocious mustaches had excited no little comment. "Yes, it is a great happiness!" he now replied.
Changing his tactics, he said to himself that, even if he had lost this amount through M. de Chalusse's sudden death, it was much less than he might obtain if he succeeded in discovering the unknown heirs to so many millions. And he had some reason to hope that he would be able to do so.
But Mademoiselle Marguerite had one more request to make. She had often seen in M. de Chalusse's possession a little note-book, in which he entered the names and addresses of the persons with whom he had business transactions. "Ah! I'm sure that I shall find Pascal now!" she exclaimed. And after once more thanking the magistrate, she returned to her room again.
It was, indeed, the same physician who had annoyed Mademoiselle Marguerite by his persistent curiosity and impertinent questions, at the Count de Chalusse's bedside; the same crafty and ambitious man, constantly tormented by covetousness, and ready to do anything to gratify it the man of the period, in short, who sacrificed everything to the display by which he hoped to deceive other people, and who was almost starving in the midst of his mock splendor.
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