A smile shone in De Breulh’s eyes, as he answered,—
“Money, perhaps!”
“You are right,” returned the Viscountess, gravely; “he brought my bill into my very drawing-room, and handed it in before a stranger. I never thought that a man who supplies the most aristocratic portion of society could have been guilty of such a piece of impertinence. I ordered him to leave the room, taking it for granted that he would do so with an apology, but I was wrong. He flew into a rage and threatened me, and swore that if I did not settle the bill on the spot, he would go to my husband. The bill was nearly twenty thousand francs; imagine my horror! I was so thunderstruck at the amount that I absolutely entreated him to give me time. But my humility added to his annoyance, and taking a seat in an armchair, he declared that he would not move from it until he received his money, or had seen my husband.”
“What was Croisenois doing all this time?” asked M. de Breulh.
“He did nothing at first, but at this last piece of audacity he took out his pocketbook, and throwing it in Van Klopen’s face, said: ‘Pay yourself, you insolent scoundrel, and get out of this.’”
“And the tailor went off?”
“No. ‘I must give you a receipt,’ said he, and taking writing materials from his pocket, he wrote at the foot of the bill, ‘Received from the Marquis de Croisenois, on account of money owing by the Viscountess de Bois Arden, the sum of twenty thousand francs.’”
“Well,” said De Breulh, looking very grave, “and after Van Klopen’s departure, I suppose Croisenois remained to ask the favor regarding which he had called?”
“You are mistaken,” answered his cousin. “I had great difficulty in making him speak; but at last he confessed that he was deeply in love with Mademoiselle de Mussidan, and entreated me to present him to her parents and exert all my influence in his behalf.”
Both the young men started.