"Alas, Monsieur le Vicomte! can you flatter yourself that you will regain the society you have quitted, and the name you have—"
Louvier stopped short; something in the Vicomte's eye daunted him.
"The name I have laid aside for convenience of travel. Princes travel incognito, and so may a simple gentilhomme. 'Regain my place in society,' say you? Yes; it is not that which troubles me."
"What does?"
"The consideration whether on a very modest income I can be sufficiently esteemed for myself to render that society more pleasant than ever. Ah, mon cher! why recoil? why so frightened? Do you think I am going to ask you for money? Have I ever done so since we parted; and did I ever do so before without repaying you? Bah! you roturiers are worse than the Bourbons. You never learn or unlearn. 'Fors non mutat genus.'"
The magnificent millionaire, accustomed to the homage of grandees from the Faubourg and lions from the Chaussee d'Antin, rose to his feet in superb wrath, less at the taunting words than at the haughtiness of mien with which they were uttered.
"Monsieur, I cannot permit you to address me in that tone. Do you mean to insult me?"
"Certainly not. Tranquillize your nerves, reseat yourself, and listen,— reseat yourself, I say."
Louvier dropped into his chair.
"No," resumed the Vicomte, politely, "I do not come here to insult you, neither do I come to ask money; I assume that I am in my rights when I ask Monsieur Louvier what has become of Louise Duval?"