“My father would not have dared to touch anything without receiving an order, M. the marquis.”
“He was very unwise to wait for an order, when anything was going to destruction without benefiting anyone. As the chateau is fast approaching the condition of the furniture, and my fortune does not permit me to repair it, I will sell it before the walls crumble away.”
Joseph could scarcely believe his ears. He regarded the selling of the chateau of Clameran as a sacrilege; but he was not bold of speech, like his father, so he dared not express an opinion.
“Would there be difficulty in selling this ruin?” continued Louis.
“That depends upon the price you ask, M. the marquis; I know a man who would purchase the property if he could get it cheap.”
“Who is he?”
“M. Fougeroux, who lives on the other side of the river. He came from Beaucaire, and twelve years ago married a servant-maid of the late Countess de la Verberie. Perhaps M. the marquis remembers her—a plump, bright-eyed brunette, named Mihonne.”
Louis did not remember Mihonne.
“When can we see this Fougeroux?” he inquired.
“To-day; I will engage a boat to take us over.”