“And you really think that it was his intention to go to Brazil?”
“He said so. It was written on his thirty-six trunks in letters half a foot high. Besides, he showed me his ticket.”
“Have you any idea what could have induced him to expatriate himself thus, at his age?”
“He told me he had spent all his money, and also some of other people’s; that he was afraid of being arrested; and that he was going yonder to be quiet, and try to make another fortune.”
Was Mme. Zelie speaking in good faith? To ask the question would have been rather naive; but an effort might be made to find out. Carefully concealing his own impressions, and the importance he attached to this conversation,
“I pity you sincerely, madame,” resumed M. de Tregars; “for you must be sorely grieved by this sudden departure.”
“Me!” she said in a voice that came from the heart. “I don’t care a straw.”
Marquis de Tregars knew well enough the ladies of the class to which he supposed that Mme. Zelie Cadelle must belong, not to be surprised at this frank declaration.
“And yet,” he said, “you are indebted to him for the princely magnificence that surrounds you here.”
“Of course.”