"Yes; the duke wrote to me, requesting permission to visit the house. I begged him to wait till this evening, as he could then see the reception-rooms to more advantage—but I did not then anticipate the honor of receiving you."
"Monsieur de Saint-Herem," she said, still hesitatingly, "you have been very indulgent to me—will you allow me one more question?"
"Indulgence in this instance has been so sweet and agreeable to me, that I shall thank you for the opportunity of exercising it once more. What is it?"
"How can you have the courage, or, rather—I shall use a very harsh word, I fear—how can you have the ingratitude to leave this house, which you have created with so much love, and to which are attached so many kind, generous souvenirs?"
"Upon my word, madame!" he replied carelessly, as if he were saying the most natural thing in the world, "I must sell this mansion because I am ruined, completely ruined. This is my last day of good fortune and wealth, and you must admit, madame, that, thanks to your presence here, this day could not have a more brilliant or happier evening!"
CHAPTER XIX.
Florestan de Saint-Herem had uttered the words "I am ruined" with so much simplicity and carelessness that the countess gazed at him dumbfounded for a moment, unable to believe what she had heard.
"What!" she finally gasped, "you are—"
"Ruined! completely ruined!" he repeated. "My uncle left me five millions five years ago; I have spent it all, plus eighteen hundred thousand francs. The sale of this mansion, however, with its furniture, paintings, silver, etc., will pay my debts and leave me in possession of about a hundred thousand francs. With that I shall retire to some smiling country place and turn shepherd; a charming contrast, especially when I recall my past existence. What marvelous, impossible dreams—changed into realties for myself, my friends, my mistresses—my gilded whirlwind carried in my train! What renown is mine! how all that was beautiful, elegant, sumptuous, recherché, was swallowed up in my dazzling orbit! Would you believe, madame, that my reputation for liberality had spread over Europe? Nay, more; a Chandernagor lapidary sent me an Indian saber with its handle studded with gems, enclosing a pretty, laconic note in these words: 'This cimeter belonged to Tippo-Saëb; it should belong to M. Saint-Herem. The weapon is worth twenty-five thousand francs, payable at the Rothschild house, in Paris. Received twenty-five thousand francs.' Yes; the rarest and most precious objects of art were naively addressed to me from all parts of the world; the finest horses walked into my stables, the most exquisite wines filled my cellars; the most illustrious chefs fought for the privilege of serving me, and the celebrated Dr. Gasterini—do you know him, madame?"
"Who has not heard of the most famous gourmand the world has ever known?"