"Enough, sir! enough!" cried Louis indignantly.
"Permit me to add, my dear client," resumed Porquin, imperturbably, "that the said godmother refused my offers point-blank, and that Mademoiselle Mariette indignantly showed me the door. As you see, I am perfectly frank, and hope this sincere avowal will win me the confidence of M. Richard, who will not fail to accept my services. As for you, Monsieur de Saint-Herem, I have examined your securities and will place the two hundred louis in your hands this evening—and now that you have learned the conditions I have proposed to your friend, I am sure you must consider them reasonable."
"I don't want your money," cried Louis. "Do you believe me capable of discounting my father's death?"
"But, my dear client, allow me—"
"Come, Florestan, let us go," interrupted Louis, "this room stifles me."
"My dear Porquin," remarked Saint-Herem, as he followed his friend to the door, "as you see, there are still honest sons and daughters living. I will not say: 'May this serve you as a lesson or an example,' for you are too old a sinner to reform; but I sincerely hope this double disappointment will prove a most disagreeable pill to swallow."
"Ah! my dear friend, you have relieved me of a cruel doubt," said Louis, gratefully, when they had reached the street. "I am now certain that Mariette never lowered herself to this wretch—but the fact still remains that she has broken our engagement."
"Did she tell you so?"
"She has written or, rather, made someone else write."
"Made someone else write?"