He paused for a moment, and then, in a frenzy of passion, he advanced toward M. Fortunat, who instinctively retreated into the protecting embrasure of a window. “And for eight months I have lived this horrible life!” he resumed. “For eight months each moment has been so much torture. Ah! better poverty, prison, and shame! And now, when the prize is almost won, actuated either by treason or caprice, you try to make all my toil and all my suffering unavailing. You try to thwart me on the very threshold of success! No! I swear, by God’s sacred name, it shall not be! I will rather crush you, you miserable scoundrel—crush you like a venomous reptile!”
There was such a ring of fury in his voice that the crystals of the candelabra vibrated; and Madame Dodelin, in her kitchen, heard it, and shuddered. “Some one will certainly do M. Fortunat an injury one of these days,” she thought.
It was not by any means the first time that M. Fortunat had found himself at variance with clients of a sanguine temperament; but he had always escaped safe and sound, so that, after all, he was not particularly alarmed in the present instance, as was proved by the fact that he was still calm enough to reflect and plan. “In forty-eight hours I shall be certain of the count’s fate,” he thought; “he will be dead, or he will be in a fair way to recovery—so by promising to give this frenzied man what he desires on the day after to-morrow, I shall incur no risk.”
Taking advantage of an opportunity which M. de Valorsay furnished, on pausing to draw breath, he hastily exclaimed, “Really, Monsieur le Marquis, I cannot understand your anger.”
“What! scoundrel!”
“Excuse me. Before insulting me, permit me to explain——”
“No explanation—five hundred louis!”
“Have the kindness to allow me to finish. Yes, I know that you are in urgent need of money—not by-and-by, but now. To-day I was unable to procure it, nor can I promise it to-morrow; but on the day after to-morrow, Saturday, I shall certainly have it ready for you.”
The marquis seemed to be trying to read his agent’s very soul. “Are you in earnest?” he asked. “Show your hand. If you don’t intend to help me out of my embarrassment, say so.”
“Ah, Monsieur le Marquis, am I not as much interested in your success as you yourself can be? Have you not received abundant proofs of my devotion?”