As he unfolded them, Dominique glanced at the notes, and then let his gaze wander out through the window.
"Is Monseigneur proposing to pay me the interest on his bonds?"
"To be sure I am."
"I do not ask for it."
"Devil care I if you ask or not! Count the notes, if you please."
Dominique took a packet in his hands for a moment, still with his eyes bent absently on the window, fingered the notes, and laid them back on the table.
"Monseigneur will do me the justice to own that in former times I have given him good advice in business. I beg him to keep these notes for a while. In a month or two their value will have trebled, whichever Government redeems them."
The Commandant struck the table. "In a few hours, sir, I shall be a dead man. My honour cannot wait so long; and since the question is now of honour, not of business, you will keep your advice to yourself. Be quick, please; for time presses, and I have some instructions to leave to my brother. At my death he will sell the Seigniory. The Government will take its quint of the purchase-money, and out of the remainder you shall be paid. My daughter will then go penniless, but at least I shall have saved her from a creditor with such claims as you are like to press. And so, sir, I hope you have your answer."
"No, Monseigneur, not my answer. That I will never take but from Mademoiselle Diane herself."
"By God, you shall have it here and now!" The Commandant stepped to the window and threw open the casement. "Diane!" he called.