"Well, madame, that great man proclaimed that he had eaten as good a dinner in my house as in his own—a compliment he could not pay, even to the table of M. de Talleyrand. Ah! madame, what a grand, complete, beautiful life! And women! Ah! women!"
"Monsieur!—"
"Fear not, madame, I shall speak of women only as objects of art. And really, can there exist a more charming pretext for magnificence? Luxury is but the accessory; a woman is so pretty, adorned and surrounded by all the products of art. Believe me, madame, I have the certainty of having ruined myself generously, nobly and intelligently. I have neither a foolish expense nor a wicked action to reproach myself! It is with a mind full of delicious souvenirs, a heart full of serenity, that I see my fortune take wings!"
His tone was so sincere, the truth of his words and sentiments were so strongly expressed on his loyal, handsome face, that the countess could not but be convinced of the reality of all he said.
"I must admit, monsieur," she observed softly, "that such philosophy confounds me! Now that the hour of renouncing such a life is at hand, not a word of bitterness escapes your lips!"
"Words of bitterness! after so much joy and happiness? Ah, madame, that would be blasphemy!"
"You leave this enchanted palace without regret, without even a sigh, and at the very moment when you would have enjoyed it?"
"What will you, madame? I did not believe myself so near the end until a week ago, when my rascally steward showed me my accounts, and I resign myself to the inevitable with a good grace. Besides, in leaving this palace, created with so much love, I am like the poet who has written the last stanza to his poem, the artist who has given the last touch to his canvas; there still remains the imperishable glory of having achieved a masterpiece. This palace is a monument of art and magnificence; it shall always be the temple of luxury, fêtes, pleasures. Ah! how ungrateful I should be to complain of my fate! It is you, madame, who shall be the divinity of this temple; for you shall purchase it, will you not? You would grace it so well! Do not lose the opportunity; for, as the duke has informed you, Lord Wilmot has made me very pressing offers. I should be sorry to sell it to him; he is so ugly, and so is his wife, and so are his five daughters! What divinities for this temple, which seems built expressly for you! I beg you, madame, take it for the love of that art you appreciate so well. Only, be merciful to my worthy uncle! It is a magnificent painting and, although the portrait and the name of Saint Ramon are often repeated in sculptured medallions on diverse parts of the facade, I would be happy to think that this brave uncle—from the height of his marble monument—would assist for centuries to the pleasures of which he deprived himself during life!"
"My dear Florestan," interrupted the duke, touching his elbow, "it is all very beautiful and wonderful. But eighteen hundred thousand francs—including furniture and silver, of course—is an exorbitant price."
"I am completely disinterested in the matter, my dear duke," replied the young man, with a smile, "those eighteen hundred thousand francs belong to my creditors, and I shall therefore be horribly tenacious on the conditions. Moreover, as I have already told you, Lord Wilmot offers me that sum and urges me to accept it."