"He is ruined, and has fled the country. His flight was the talk of the
Bourse this morning. Duplessis told me of it."
Alain's face paled. "How is Louvier to be paid? Read that letter!"
Lemercier rapidly scanned his eye over the contents of Louvier's letter.
"It is true, then, that you owe this man a year's interest—more than 7,000 louis?"
"Somewhat more—yes. But that is not the first care that troubles me —Rochebriant may be lost, but with it not my honour. I owe the Russian Prince 300 louis, lost to him last night at ecarte. I must find a purchaser for my coupe and horses; they cost me 600 louis last year,—do you know any one who will give me three?"
"Pooh! I will give you six; your alezan alone is worth half the money!"
"My dear Frederic, I will not sell them to you on any account. But you have so many friends—"
"Who would give their soul to say, 'I bought these horses of Rochebriant.' Of course I do. Ha! young Rameau, you are acquainted with him?"
"Rameau! I never heard of him!"
"Vanity of vanities, then what is fame? Rameau is the editor of Le Sens
Commun. You read that journal?"